The Kryptonian and the city girl
by madeinfrance
Summary: A collection of drabbles about a sun god who fell in love with a story teller. Clark x Lois, Man of Steel verse.
1. Gentleman

Clark Kent was a gentleman.

There was absolutely no doubt about it, and Lois had understood that pretty quickly. Before actually getting to know him, in fact.

She realized it the very first time, of course, when he was so gentle rescuing her, taking the time to reassure her and gain her trust before he even laid a hand on her, when he could have just hold her down and get it over with. His gentle nature had been confirmed a few weeks later, as she talked to every person that had crossed his path that she could put her hand on – including that one girl back in Canada, who couldn't keep a fond smile off her face when she talked about that man that was not only nice, but defended her even if that meant being humiliated for it.

It hadn't surprised her, then, that he treated her with nothing but respect when they properly met, even though she was openly looking to tell his story, a story he didn't want to be told - and when for all he knew at the time, she could have just gone ahead and do it, despite his heartbreaking story. As if it wasn't enough, he thought of her first when he surrendered himself, making sure nothing happened to her when in a moment like that, she was pretty sure most people would have thought of their own fate, and no one else's.

His kindness and respect even reflected on the way he bent down oh so slowly to kiss her in the middle of Metropolis' ruins, giving her the choice to back out if she wanted to – yeah _, right_.

And, of course, nothing changed when they started dating ( _"I don't see how bringing you breakfast in bed is that special, Lois." "Of course you don't,"_ _she kissed his adorable pout away_.)

And, of course, it was not just for her benefit ( _"I thought the poor lady was going to faint." "I only opened the door for her, really." "Yeah, but that, your face_ and _your smile, that can be a lot to take in, honey."_ )

As the months passed, though, Lois gets to see an all new side of him.

Because the truth is, Superman is a total tease.

She discovers it their first night together, in her apartment. Backing her against the wall, he kisses her like she hasn't been in a long time - well, never, really - all the while stubbornly keeping his hands on her waist, driving her crazy. Purposefully, she figures thanks to his cheeky grin and amused chuckle when she groans, frustrated, and drags him to her bedroom.

He also looks far too proud of himself whenever she pretty much melts – yes, freaking _melts_ \- because of him. Which is fair, really, considering that _he_ was the blushing kind, and she oh definitely wasn't.

Until him, that is.

As it turns out, Lois Lane, independent, cynical and fearless reporter is as foolish and smitten as every other woman on the planet when it comes to the charms of Superman, turning slightly pink whenever he tells her she's beautiful, shivering when his lips travel their way up her neck, grinning when he locks his arms tightly around her waist and feeling dizzy when he looks at her that way that took her breath away.

But for all those things he managed to do to her, Lois also learns that, gentleman or not - _Superman_ or not - Clark Kent is just a man, in the end. And when at night, she's in nothing but her lace underwear, hovering over him, fingers ghosting over his skin, it's her turn to look her cocky and proud usual self as his eyes darken, his hands start to grip and his lips start to kiss.

She feels his grin against her own, and blesses whatever fate brought her to that Kryptonian guy.


	2. Pretty boy

"You're gorgeous."

Frowning, Clark looked up from the paper he was reading, a funny confused expression on his face.

"What?"

"I mean it - you really, _really_ are."

And God, was that true: elbows resting on the table, shirtless, sitting with one foot under him as he went through Sunday's news with an adorable focused expression on his still sleepy face, Lois was pretty sure he was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. _Ever._

Smirking at his slightly blushing cheeks and tousled hair, she took a sip of her coffee, shrugging innocently. "Just thought you should know."

"Oh, uh – thanks," he finally managed awkwardly as she continued to shamelessly stare.

"Anytime, Smallville."


	3. A long separation

"Well don't laugh! This is not funny – at _all_ ," she glared up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and slapped him on the chest with the hand he wasn't holding for emphasis.

"It kind of is, actually. Lois Lane, independent - "

"Shut up."

" - self-sufficient -"

"I'm serious, Clark."

" - incredibly modern woman: can't sleep without me," he finished despite her threats, way too cheeky, and she tried hard not to let her lips curl up as he grinned down at her. He was way too adorable when he did that - that _really_ wasn't fair.

"I didn't say that...exactly," she added downheartedly at his raised eyebrows. "I just had a _little_ more trouble falling asleep than I usually do, which is not surprising, given that I was in a noisy part of a third world country town," but he was still chuckling. "You know, on second thought, I didn't miss you all that much," Lois finally smiled, shaking her head at him.

"Well, _I_ did," he said softly, and the sincerity in his voice and the way his fingers tightened around hers made her stomach all warm again – the same way it did exactly three hours before, when she had finally spotted his dark curls and baby blues in the crowd of the airport.

"Nice save, Superman," she fired back, trying to ignore her blushing - she may be smitten, but she was still Lois Lane, damn it.

"Thank you."

Dropping on the ground, bringing him down with her, she took a deep breath and let the slight wind cool her skin. She laid on the grass, happy to be able to stretch and get comfortable after that inhumanly long flight, and rested her head on her arms as she watched him settled next to her.

She listened to him filling her in about what she missed at the Daily Planet, occasionally making him laugh with some snarky comment against Lombard, and eventually found herself chin up on her elbow, brushing some imaginary nothing off his forehead, and chin, and chest.

Lois had never thought she'd actually think that, but as it turned out, there _were_ , indeed, things more important than her job – and it was pretty damn amazing.


	4. Lucky girl

"You can't have it all, Lois."

An expression her father loved very, _very_ much, given the number of times he had repeated it to her over the years, usually between a sigh and a lecture about how she was way too committed to her job.

(Which, coming from him, of all people, was more than a little hypocritical.)

But walking through the living room to get Clark's opinion on her article, only to find him laying asleep on his back, one arm hanging on the side of it and the other holding the four year-old little terror sleeping on his stomach, hair as dark as his father's and lips as pink as hers, Lois thought with a smile that maybe that saying wasn't quiet right.

She'll have to remember to tell her father that.


	5. A girlfriend's advantages

"So, Sir McCanfly," she said casually, sitting crossed legs on his bed in nothing but his blue flannel shirt, and he couldn't help the corners of his lips curling up, eyes still glued to his computer. "Tell me: as Superman's girlfriend, do I get to travel wherever I want ?"

"Well, as his girlfriend, I'm not sure you have all the abilities that Superman _does_ have, so from a physical point of view, that's going to be difficult."

"I was planning on just hanging around your neck, really," Lois deadpanned. "Without the spaceships falling and the black holes sucking, I'm sure it would be easier."

"Very true. But unless you plan on freezing into my arms halfway through the Atlantic, I'm afraid our vacations won't be super exotic."

"Okay, first, South America is not that far - just saying," she started, and he chuckled, quickly glancing up at her as she stretched, looking for something in the ocean of papers around her. "And for your information, it is literally impossible to be cold in your arms. You're like, a giant heating machine."

"Yeah, I've always been pretty hot," Clark joked, and they locked eyes as she smirked, amused.

"And he's funny, too. Cute."

"I try," he fired back, finally pushing his computer aside and leaning on his arms on the table, smiling at her. "I've got to say, I'm disappointed: I _really_ thought you were with me for something other than my super skills, Lois."

"Oh, I am: you're the best cook in town, Smallville. And stop pretending you can actually refuse me anything."

"I totally can."

"You totally can't."

"Okay, maybe not," he gave up, shaking his head at her proud grin. "I'm open to negociations. But it depends: do I get something in return?"

Lois raised an eyebrow at him, mimicking an impressed pout as she got up, closing her own computer with a brush of her hand.

"Geez. And here I thought I found an incredible romantic."

Pursuing his lips, he shrugged innocently, watching as she poured herself some water before turning, leaning on his sink - and effectively revealing her toned legs.

"But I guess we can figure something out," she smiled over her glass, a cheeky smirk on her face when she caught his eyes peaking down. "Do I still got my dates in the sky privileges for free, though ?"

"Of course. Goes with the job."

"Perfect."


	6. Getting a beer

"Okay, let's do this."

Leaning back on his leather seat as he put his beer down on the table, he smiled at her, tie loosen and eyes incredibly blue behind his dorky glasses. Lois rested on her forearms, grin a little too wide for a grown up woman as she held his gaze.

 _God_ , that face wasn't fair.

"All right, Smallville. Beatles or Rolling Stones?"

"Beatles."

"Summer or winter?"

"Summer? Although I don't really get that cold during winter."

"Shocker," she smirked, their first face to face still very clear in her memory. "Wine or beer?"

"Beer," he humphed and held out his bottle for emphasis, looking almost offended.

"Sean Connery or Daniel Craig?"

"Connery, but to be honest, I've never seen one with Craig."

"Sloppy joe or hamburger?"

"Hamburger."

"Plato or Aristotle?"

"Plato, I guess. He was very helpful when I was the lonely school freak," and she smiled internally : super muscular, super sensitive _and_ super intellectual.

Geez. That combination in one guy was almost even more difficult for her to believe than the fact that he was from another planet.

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, it could have been worse. At least I wasn't in the cheer-leading team - Tom Pritchett realized that mistake _way_ too late."

And funny. As crazy as it was, even for her, Lois Lane was getting more and more smitten by the minute.

Chuckling, she took a sip of her own beer and continued. "Superman or Kal-El?"

He blushed at that, like she half expected him to. Investigation was still in process, but Lois was pretty sure Clark Kent was the sweetest thing she had ever seen - a thought that made her smile again, considering that whole power thing.

"Superman sounds a little showy."

"Says the man walking around in a red and blue costume."

"Touché," he laughed, and she realized it was the first time she heard him do that. She loved it.

"Football or tennis?"

"Oh, please," he looked insulted, only betrayed by his tone and his lips curving up again.

"Red or blue?"

"Blue."

"Iron Man or Captain America?"

"Captain America, which I'm now realizing is kinda obvious."

"Only now? Come on, you even have the same _suit_."

"Hey, I didn't choose it. And mine comes from another planet, so it's way cooler, anyway."

She laughed at that. "Very true. Cat or dog?"

"Dog."

"Blonds or brunettes?"

He smiled again, a bit bashful and looking a little hesitant, and she felt her betraying heart skip a beat at the way he looked at her.

"Redheads, actually."

Grinning back despite her own will, she felt her cheeks redden. _Ugh._

"Then you officially have good taste," she fired back, grinning when he ducked his head in fake seriousness as a thanks for the compliment.

"Okay, my turn."

"Oh, no no no - I'm not done with you, farm boy. You'll get your turn next time," she looked at him pointedly over her beer.

"So I get a second date, then?"

And here it was again, that look that both scared her and excited her to no end. She figured she should start getting used to that thing in her stomach whenever he did – from what she had gathered so far, it didn't look like it was stopping anytime soon.

She didn't have a problem with that.

Smirking, she brought her glass to her lips. "I guess I could do that for you."


	7. The news

Sighing softly, Lois made her way into their bedroom, bare feet slowly walking over the soft carpet. She smiled at the light of the sunset reflecting on his handsome features.

They sure knew how to make them, in Krypton.

She stopped right in front of him, and if she didn't already know something was wrong, the fact that he actually blinked up in surprise at her appearance would have done it. Her heart broke a little at the way he briefly glanced at her stomach, something close to pain in his eyes, before he looked away.

Separating his entangled hands, she moved closer and sat on his lap, legs between his own, before wrapping her left arm around his neck and burrowing her fingers in his hair.

"Hi."

His arms encircled her in answer, and held tight – a little tighter than usual, she noted. "Hi."

"Care to tell me what's going on in there?" she asked softly, index on his temple.

"Not much."

"Yeah, that's why for the first time ever, you didn't know I was walking into a room the moment I made a step towards it," she rolled her eyes for show, and she was a little relieved when he chuckled. That was a start.

She knew what bothered him though, had been bothering him for days. "Clark, it's gonna be fine," she tried to reason him, and sure enough, his face closed at her words.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," and if the situation wasn't this serious, she would have laughed at the annoyed glare he directed at her. "I've been fine until now."

"We've just found out. It's only the beginning, Lois," he argued through gritted teeth, and she could see how torned he was, worried, almost angry. "It could become too much for your body very fast, and- "

"My body can handle anything," she grinned, cheeky, in an attempt to get another smile out of him.

Didn't work so well this time around.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, okay?" she brought a hand to his face on impulse, fingertips running over his skin, something she found herself doing every time she wanted to soothe him. She knew he wasn't convinced, though - far from it.

Shaking his head, Clark closed his eyes. "I should have been more careful. This is all my fault."

"Well, duh," she chuckled at his last sentence. "But I'm not sorry it happened. Come on, I've never see you smile so wide than you had for the past week," and she couldn't help her own smile, the giddiness she was growing accustomed to returning yet again.

And honestly, she didn't expect to be that ecstatic. She really didn't.

But whether it was just something she had wanted without knowing it, or that she was finally at _that_ place, or because it was all happening with Clark – and she had a pretty strong feeling it was all of the above, with extra credit on the last - Lois was just...happy. She just was.

And she knew he would be to, already was, actually, if he could just stop worrying.

"Put all that worry about my safety aside for a second - "

"Oh yeah, because that's just so irrelevant," he snorted.

" - and just let it sink it. I mean it," she insisted, holding his face between her hands so he couldn''t look away, because not only was she stubborn – once again, _duh_ \- she was so no letting feel guilty about it. Not that.

She kissed him then, because she couldn't remember feeling that ecstatic before, and brought his hand on her stomach, holding it there with her own, curled up lips still brushing his. Looking down at their untangled fingers, he sighed, and she ran her other hand on the back of his neck in a soothing motion, letting him slowly calm down.

"You know, I always thought that if that ever happened to me, I'll be the one to freak out," she admitted. He chuckled, and she smiled at the way he finally allowed himself to relax, and the way he was still staring at her stomach, thumb running circles over her shirt.

Over and over again.

"What if something does go wrong, Lois?" he finally broke the silence, and his low voice was filled with fear, his fingers tightening their grip on her hips.

"No 'what if', Clark. Please," she asked softly, nuzzling his cheek. "I'm keeping it, and I don't intend on going anywhere, anyway: no way I leave this world before getting another Pulitzer. So the sooner you stop worrying over what could happen or not, the better - you're not getting ride of me that easily, Smallville."

He finally, _finally_ looked up at her, that little smile he saved for her on his oh so handsome Kansas face.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

"But we're gonna be extra careful, which means regular visits to the doctor, even if they're going to think we're crazy for showing up so often, and even if you hate it."

"Deal."

"Really?" His eyebrows shot up, and she couldn't contain her laugh. "You're not even going to argue? You can't _stand_ doctors."

"If that's what you need to be okay and not completely freak out for the next six months – no, I'm not," she smiled, kissing him again.

"I do want this, you know," he admitted against her lips, eyes still closed before opening them, looking right into her. "A family – with you. I'm just -"

"I know," she gently ressured him, dropping a small kiss on his nose. "Can you really hear his heart?", she then smiled, excited, staring back at her own still flat stomach.

"Yeah," he whispered in a breath, awe in his eyes. "It's...amazing," he chuckled. "Wait, 'his'? How do you know?" he asked, an amused grin on his face.

"Well, I got a feeling – and we all know my intuition is gold. Plus – wait," Lois suddenly stopped, and her heart skipped a beat when she took in his knowing smirk.

He was so enjoying playing her like that, but right now, she didn't care.

"I'm actually right? It's – it's a boy?"

"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you surprised about being right," and the only thing she could do was laugh with him and hugged him back.

"Okay," she said when they finally calmed down. "Now that this crisis is dealt with, can we please panic over the fact that we're going to have a baby, and I have absolutely no idea how to deal with a child? Because we haven't done that yet, and I really feel like we should."

He laughed, and she grinned – not without a little panic growing at the truth of what was only half a joke.

Oh boy.


	8. Long distance call

"Did Mrs. Nelson ask you out on a date yet?"

"No," he chuckled. "She didn't - and I'm guessing she probably won't."

"Well, she probably thinks you're single by now, and she's _so_ in love with you. You should really start to pick an outfit, Smallville."

"Lois, she's 76," he simply answered, and she could hear the roll of his eyes and his amused smirk in his voice.

"So? I don't think she really cares about the age difference, you know."

"It doesn't matter, anyway. There's already a woman, you see..."

"Is there?" she asked, her own smile growing.

"Yeah, I - " He was quiet for a few seconds, and she knew right there the conversation had come to an end. "Lois, I'm sorry, I have to go."

"I know. Be careful, Superman."

"I will. Be careful, too. I - "

For a second, he hesitated, and she swore, her betraying heart actually skipped a bit. The hesitation was so short she could have missed it, but she didn't - not when she felt like three little words she both dreaded and not so subconsciously craved for were about to be said.

After an imperceptible bit, he spoke again.

"I miss you," he admitted instead, and she hoped with all she had he didn't hear the breath she released. God, when did she become _that_ girl?

"I miss you too," she admitted softly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be pressed against a certain Kryptonian body. "I'll call you tomorrow. Now go save the world."

"Yes Mam," she heard him smile. "Bye."

And with that, he was gone.

Closing her eyes as she dropped her phone on her uncomfortable bed, Lois wondered at what moment Clark had become the first guy that made her count the days before the end of an abroad investigation, the first guy that made her (terrified to) want to admit feelings she never felt for anyone before him.

Too exhausted (and, again, terrified) to think about it further, she just turned off the light and tried to find sleep, missing the two strong arms that usually enveloped her.

 _Two weeks down, one to go, Lane._


	9. Girls talk

After Metropolis' fall, the Planet moves. The new headquarters are even smaller than the old ones: there's room enough for everybody, of course, but four journalists running around in a hurry, and it's collision city.

As a consequence, the journalists booths are a lot closer together than they used to be – which Lois hates, since the guy next to her isn't Clark - the bathroom consists in four little stools for the entire floor, and the printer is just outside the coffee break room, angled in a way that you can stand in or right outside of it and hear what's being said by the unlucky ones stuck doing photocopies without being seen by them.

Which, right now, Lois is really enjoying.

"Stop it," she hears Jenny slightly scolding tone, even though she can hear the smile in her voice as well. A smitten one, she guesses.

"It's true! Come on, you have to admit it: he's straight up gorgeous."

"We're at work."

"Well, he's gorgeous in here, too!" and Lois chuckles, coffee in hand, as she settles against the door frame. To be honest, the girl is not wrong.

There's a slight pause, then Jenny finally gives in with a sigh. "And he's so nice, too. I seriously think I've never met a guy that nice. Just three days ago, he brought me a coffee mid-day because he could tell I didn't sleep and couldn't keep my eyes open. And you know what? He didn't even _mention_ I look tired."

"Ugh," the new girl probably rolls her eyes. "I'm guessing he's smart and good at his job, in top of everything?"

"He is. I mean, he fitted in really fast, and really well. And that's not me saying that, it's _Perry -_ and God knows how rare his compliments are. His writing really is good, though. Personal. It's kind of like you can see the person in it: it's, I don't know - emphatic. He really cares, and you feel that in his articles."

"So, to sum it up: he's so handsome I could cry, he's nice, he's kind, he's smart _and_ he's build like a God with the prettiest baby blues in town. Did I get it right?"

Jenny laughs, gathering up all her copies, by the sound of it, before making a very good point. "You forgot the smile. The first time he smiled at me, I _giggled_. Literally, teen-style giggled. Be prepared."

"I don't suppose he's single, huh?" and Jenny probably confirms with a nod. "Of course. Perfect, so taken - makes sense."

"Completely in love, too. It's very cute, actually."

"What, you mean she works here?"

"Oh yeah. You'll figure it out soon, trust me," and she sounds amused. She's not the only one. "It's pretty easy to – hey, Lois!" She's never seen the colors drain from Jenny's face so fast.

"Hey. Hi, Lois Lane, nice to meet you," she extends her hand to the newcomer, trying with all she has not to laugh. The girl – Emily, she learns – not aware of Lois' girlfriend-of-the-God status, doesn't seem that embarrassed, and simply smiles politely at her as she shakes her hand.

Her cheeks do redden, though, when a second later, Clark walks in, the discussed smile making its way on his face when he spots them.

"Oh, hi. Uhm, I don't think we've met: I'm Clark Kent," he introduces himself to the poor smitten girl. She manages to cover it pretty well, Lois must admit, but their quick, babbling exit doesn't exactly scream subtle.

"Did I say something?" he asks as he turns back to face her, pointing to the door the two young women have just fled by. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Lois chuckles. She closes the distance between them, putting her hands on his stomach and tilting her head up. "They were just talking about what a lucky lady I am." She smiles and kisses him once, twice before pulling away.

Without further explanation, she heads back to her desk, amused when she gives him a last smile over her shoulder only to find a very confused and adorable look on his face.

A lucky lady she was, indeed.


	10. Out of patience

Burned.

That's the first thing he smelled when he entered the apartment. Burned, and...chicken?

"Lo?" he called as he closed the door behind him.

And here she was, sprawled on the sofa, feet on the table as she furiously taped on her computer. She had that pout that he knew meant that not only was she really, _really_ angry about something, she also didn't want to talk about it.

"Hey," Clark greeted, dropping his glasses on the dresser and his bag next to it before he took his jacket off, desperately trying not to laugh. "Did you have a nice day?"

"Great," she answered in a tone that clearly meant she hadn't, eyes still glued to her screen. "You?"

"Fine, I guess. Lombard talked about The Meteors' win all day, which got annoying pretty quickly, but otherwise, nothing particular."

"Well, that's not particular either," she snorted, fingers hitting the board with more force every time. At that pace, he won't be the only one to break things in the apartment anymore. "He's _always_ annoying."

Amused, he sat on the small table, right next to her feet.

Bad timing.

Because for some reason, the moment he sat down, the smell suddenly got stronger – and, God, _so_ much worse - making his face constricted in something probably close to disgust, or even sickness. And, of course, that was the moment she chose to look up at him.

He briefly saw hurt cross her features before she put her computer aside - and exploded.

"And you can get that look off your face!"

"What look?" he tried to play innocent, knowing full well it was way too late for that.

"The look that says ' _Oh God, Lois has cooked something and I have to eat it_ '!" she countered back, dead serious, and this time, he couldn't hold back his chuckle.

"Well, you have to admit, there's a very special scent coming from the kitchen right now."

"Oh, I'm _sorry,_ but not all of us were raised by the best cook in Kansas, Clark!" she threw her hands dramatically in the air, cheeks getting an adorable shade of pink. "I tried, okay, but as surprising as it may seem to you, it doesn't come naturally to me, and if - "

Before she had the time to finish, he moved her feet and kneeled on the floor between her legs, hands travelling back and forth from her thighs to her waist in a soothing motion as he placed gentle kisses on her neck, cheeks and lips until Lois calmed down.

She did, after a few seconds, and her small hands came to rest on his neck as a heavy sigh left her. Face inches from hers, Clark smiled gently at her, pecking her on the lips one last time as she finally looked him in the eyes.

"So. Still no luck, huh?"

"I don't understand why he won't come out," and he would have laughed at her adorable muffled voice if she wasn't this distressed. Eyes shining with tears, she suddenly looked so vulnerable he'd do anything to make her feel better. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot he could do, lately.

Clark had admired Lois since the first time he'd met her, all confidence and determination as she climbed off that helicopter back in Canada, but for the past few weeks, she had been heroic. To his relief, everything had gone well – _"I told you you had nothing to worry about, silly",_ she'd bragged, a soft smile on her face – but as the pregnancy came closer to the end, not only did her patience understandably ran out – _"I can't barely sit up alone",_ she'd cried one morning because, well, she couldn't - she started experiencing discomfort all day long, back pain, and even headaches.

As it turned out, in those moments, being Superman didn't help at all, and Clark was just another guy standing by helplessly with nothing but words of comfort for his suffering girlfriend.

"Well, maybe he's just like his mother," he softly said, cupping her redden cheek. "Always doing the opposite of what he's being told." He felt a little better when she finally smiled.

Not bothering to try and warm up his hands – because " _You're_ always _warm, that's amazing_ " – he pushed her shirt up to reveal her wonderfully swollen belly, gently kissing it hello, too.

"Hey there, champ," he ran his fingers around it, thumb drawing slow circles on her smooth skin, and, like every time, was amazed by the little ball of life underneath it.

Just like with Lois', he could listen to that heartbeat for hours.

"Yeah, go ahead and kid about that," she said as she let her own fingers run through his hair. "But we're going to be in a lot of troubles if it's true," even though there was more tenderness than worry in her tone. He looked up at her, and here it was again, that smile she had whenever he talked to, play or simply looked at her stomach.

That smile that made him think that maybe, he made her feel as happy as she did him.

Beaming right back, Clark put his hands on the sofa and pushed himself up to do what he had waited for all day and properly kissed her, letting himself relax when her arms went around his neck, and there was nothing but her.

She held on, apparently having no intention of letting him go, and he chuckled at her outraged whimper when he pulled back.

"God, I can't wait to kiss you like a normal person again," she mumbled, still trying to steal small ones. "This is getting ridiculous." He couldn't help the small moan that rumbled up his chest when she bite his lips slightly.

And really, Clark could only agree with her on this one.

Of course, he was beyond excited that they were going to be parents – more excited than he had ever been, in fact - and he wouldn't change it for the world, but as it turned out, having a full grown baby constantly between them did reduce the body contact.

He didn't like that.

They still managed to have... _contact_ , obviously, but it wasn't the same, not being able to lay on her, her small body warm and soft under him. Something she missed even more than he did, from what she told him.

"Hi," she whispered when they finally separated, a small smile on her perfect face.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry I'm such a bitch - please don't leave me," and he chuckled because sometimes, he thought she really believed it a possibility. She had no idea.

"You're not a bitch: you're nine months and a week pregnant, and you're uncomfortable, that's all. And never," he dropped a last kiss on her lips, wiping the tears from her eyes.

He moved her to one end of the couch and settled on it himself to put her legs on his laps."By the way, I still think I should take a leave from work. You're past your due date, Lo, you shouldn't be alone," he argued as he started massaging her feet slowly, glad when she relaxed. Dropping her head against the cushions, she rested her cheek on the soft material, eyes closing in relief.

"Clark, you can litteraly hear me from the office _and_ come back here in less than a second - I think we're fine."

"Yes, but still: I don't like the idea of you being by yourself in that condition," he frowned.

"And I love you for it," she opened her eyes to smile at him, hand coming to brush his face. "But I'm okay, hon. I promise. I just wish that baby of yours would show up already," she added, rolling her eyes for show to make him laugh.

"It can't be long now. Don't worry."

"Yeah, well, I hope so...God, do you realize that in a few days, I'll be able walk like a normal person again? I can't even remember what that _feels_ like."

"I'm going to miss the waddling Lane, actually," and he laughed again when she playfully punched him. "And hey, you'll be able to sleep on your stomach again."

"Regain control of my bladder."

"Eat sushi."

"Drink coffee! Not straight away, I know," she added at his disapproving look. "But still." He chuckled at her pout.

"I'll be able to take you flying again." She grinned at that, and he did, too.

They continued for a while before he got up to make her something eatable for dinner, listening as she excitedly told him about all the ideas she had for future articles while he did.

Two days later, they were three.


	11. Right here

"Mom, I told you," Clark chuckled as he tilted his head back to see her pout. "He didn't say journalism was useless, he just - implied his son's job had more relevance. He's allowed to have his opinions, as biased as they may be."

"Yeah, well, when his precious genius starts publishing in a nationally recognized paper like the Daily Planet, _then_ he'll have the right to his stupid opinions," she mumbled from the kitchen, obviously not over it: they had been back home for four hours now, and she was still upset about it.

"You're a little biased too, you know," he added just to see her menacing glance, and wasn't disappointed. Criticize Clark Kent in any way, and you'll have a full mode mother bear Martha to deal with.

"Just go back to your game and let me cook in peace," and he did as he was told, shaking his head at her, amused. Before he had a chance to focus back on it, though, his phone vibrated, and his smile grew bigger when he saw the caller ID.

Football forgotten, he got up and headed outside, showing his still ringing phone at her confused look as he walked past her in the kitchen. "Call."

"Gee, with that much teeth showing on your face, I wonder who it is," she smirked, and he rolled his eyes, hoping the slight heat he felt rising to his cheeks didn't show. "Say hi for me!" he heard her shout just before he picked up.

"Hey."

"Hi," came the voice he had longed to hear for close to two days, now. She had had an awfully lot of work these past few days, and he knew and understood she couldn't find time to call everyday. As the "lovesick puppy" he apparently was, he still missed her. "How are you?"

"Fine," he sighed happily, slowly walking in front of the house. "Mom nearly ripped Mr O'Brian's eyes off when he kind of criticized my job, which was a bit of an overreaction, but pretty funny," he laughed. "She says hi, by the way."

"Me, too. That guy's lucky he escaped unharmed," she chuckled. It might be his imagination, but it seemed a bit forced – forced, and shaky.

Brows furrowing, his own laugh started to vanish. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I'm – I have a lot of stats to run through, it's crazy, and I'm only halfway into the list of the senators I need to check," she started, her words rushed the way they were every time she was feeling nervous about something. Clark could also swear her voice was higher than usual.

Something was definitively wrong.

"Lois," he stopped her rambling. "What's going on?"

"What? Nothing – there's nothing -" and panic started to rise in his chest as he heard her take a shaky breath, sounding like she was trying to stop herself from breaking down. He froze, not daring to make a sound, waiting for her to speak again.

A few seconds that seemed like an eternity passed, and, just before he was going to speak again, she finally did. Or at least, tried to.

"I'm...I thought just hearing your voice will be enough, but – can you please come back?"

In all the months he had known her, Clark had never heard Lois sound so distressed. Not when she was brought into an alien ship as an hostage, not when she fell from the sky, not when her entire city collapsed around her. Never.

"I'm on my way," he assured her before hanging up. He barely stopped to tell his mother he had to go, and in a second, he was gone. Five more and he was in Metropolis, heading to their apartment where he knew he'd find her.

And he did: sitting on the floor against the foot of their king size bed, knees to her chest, her phone still in her hand. His first reaction was relief: physically, she was okay, which at least ruled out half of the terrifying scenarios that ran through his mind in the short time it took him to get here.

It turned short, though.

"My uh - my father died," she managed with a broken voice.

For a few seconds, Clark didn't know what to say, and just stared at her small frame. Her head turned towards him, then, and he met her eyes blue eyes full on pain, an attempt of a smile on her face. The urge to protect her that ran through him made him move.

He walked to reach her, and as soon as he was next to her, she shifted and let herself be wrapped in his arms, body against his side, and hide her head in the crook of his neck. She gripped his shirt, and held on as if her life depended on it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she nodded, her breathing more and more difficult.

"Thank you for coming. I'm sorry I ruined your vacation home," she mumbled against his skin, and he kept kissing her head softly, one hand on the legs she had settled on his lap, the other one running over her shoulders and back the way it always calmed her down.

Tonight though, he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"You didn't ruin anything. I wouldn't be anywhere else, Lo," and her grip tightened even more. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, helpless, even though he was the first to know there wasn't.

"No," he felt her lips move against his neck. "Just, stay with me."

His heart broke when she started sobbing, and he brought her a little closer, face buried in her hair. "I'm right here."


	12. Clark

"You know I love you, right?"

Clark looks up from his spot in front of the shelves where he's trying to decide where to put the books in his hands, incredible blue eyes staring at her.

"I mean, I love _you_ \- Clark Kent," and she could kick herself. Go ahead Lane, try and be even more inarticulate.

His expression goes from confused to amused, and he smirks.

"Well, considering we're currently in the middle of unpacking in our new apartment, I figured you quite liked me, yeah."

"No, I mean, you know - you," and she can't believe that on top of everything, she's suddenly feeling a little nervous. Maybe not nervousness per say, but a need to make sure he understands - and that is making her look a bit stupid, at the moment.

"Well, I love you too," he says, and he's barely stopping his chuckle. "But I do think we'll have to stop the flying cessions: the long-term effect is a bit worrying," and she really is desperate, because she doesn't even want to send him a death glare.

"I mean, I love you for you, not just for the all Superman thing - not for that at all, actually. I guess you doing that make me love you even more, and it sounds stupid, because in the end, you're the same person."

She's babbling now, she knows it - and that is _so_ not her, it angers her even more. She closes her eyes to clear her head, cursing herself. "Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew."

Lois knows it sound stupid. It does, especially when explained oh so clearly, but she just needs him to be aware of it. She doesn't know what brought that up now, but she figures the article she just came across in his boxes, the first one she wrote about Superman and that he confessed he couldn't resist keeping, has something to do with it.

He knows how much she admires and respects Superman, but what she really wants him to know is how much _he_ counts - him, not just what he does.

He's smiling now, the way she has only seen him do around her, so far (and God, how much she hopes it stays that way), "Yeah, I know."

Smiling back, and with her stomach doing that jump thing inside again, she turns back to her unpacking.


	13. Nightmare

It's the lack of warmth and weigh behind her that wakes her.

She's used to it now - she's been Superman's girlfriend for more than a year, after all - and most of the time, she just checks that Clark is indeed gone, and goes back to sleep.

Tonight, when she rolls down on her back and briefly opens her eyes, he's still here.

There's light coming from the living room, under their closed bedroom door, and now that she focuses, she can hear the TV as well. Getting up, she grabs the first sweatshirt she can put her hand on - his blue one, it turns out - throws it on and heads out.

She finds him in front of what seems to be a _National Treasure_ rerun, sat on the sofa with his arm behind his head, and smiles when he looks up at her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he says in that deep voice of his, and she kisses his apology away, hands gently cupping his face.

"You didn't."

Lois settles on him, legs over his lap and arms around his massive shoulders, and lets her fingers slowly run through his thick hair as he drops his head on her shoulder.

He lets out a small sigh of contentment, and she feels him drop a feather light kiss on her neck.

"Nightmare?" she whispers, her lips moving on the top of his head.

"Yeah. The storm one," he adds before she can ask, and now she understands why he's here watching a movie instead of trying to go back to sleep, even though he looks exhausted.

That's the worst one.

There's the one with Zod, of course, the one with the aftermath and all the people that didn't make it. Sometimes even some of particularly painful moments of his childhood. But the storm one, the one where he relives his father's death all over again - that's the worst of his nightmares.

On those nights, she has learnt that there's not much she can do. He can't bare to close his eyes again, because he's too afraid the images will come back, and, with it, the pain, the guilt, the regrets. Not even Superman is shielded from that.

So she just stays here with him, watching as Benjamin Gates runs all over DC to try and save the Declaration of Independence. She comments from time to time, trying her best to and smiling every time she manages to make him laugh.

He drifts off, eventually, falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of her neck. She waits to make sure he's sleeping peacefully this time, hand brushing his rebellious curls away from his face with constant back and forths, then lets her heavy eyes close as well.


	14. 10 things Lois learns about Clark Kent

Going from searching for, going into space with, nearly dying with, kissing, flirting with to finally – _finally_ – dating him, Lois learns a lot about the astonishing man that is Clark Kent.

For example, he blushes easily.

(She's trying to ignore the fact that he can also make _her_ blush, which is totally new, but he definitively does – whatever.)

The first time he does – or at least, the first time she notices – is the first day he arrives at the Planet. She hasn't seen him in three weeks: Superman was everywhere, helping, rebuilding, but Clark, nowhere to be found. But he does show up, eventually, dorky glasses and flannel shirt on, and, after the initial shock, she has to stop herself from smiling too hard.

When she leaves the office that day, he's waiting for her outside, sitting on a bench, hands gripping the edges as he shakes his foot nervously, biting his lip and looking down, brows knitted together.

He looks adorable.

She's trying to hide her smile when he finally spots her and leaps in, an unfairly gorgeous grin growing on his equally unfairly gorgeous face.

"Hey."

"Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah, I got a job in the building. The Daily Planet, I don't know if you've heard of it - small paper and all."

Lois shakes her head, playing along, biting her lips to stop herself from laughing. She wasn't the girl who stupidly chuckled at a pretty face – she wasn't. Nope.

"Cute. I was beginning to think I imagined you, you know," and she feels bad when his smile falls a little. He looks down, and she stops herself from reaching for him.

"Yeah, I uh – I'm sorry about that." He looks up, and she can see how much he means it. "There was a lot to be done, here and in Smallville, and I didn't have much time. And I had to work through some stuff, I guess," he shakes his head slightly, as if he's still trying to make it clear.

He probably is.

"I wanted to come and see you, Lois - I really did. I did check on you, but it's just -"

"It's okay, Clark. I get it," she smiles softly, because she does. Not only did he had to learn to live with the fact that he killed a man, he also had to accept that the last of his people die, to go from anonymous to new alien superhero, and, knowing him, probably to live with the guilt over Metropolis fall, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

That would be a lot for anybody. For a man as sensitive him, she couldn't imagine.

"I just wish you would have let me help."

He looks at her then, surprise, wonder and something else she can't quite identify behind his eyes, and her heart skips a bit.

 _Well, that's new._

She tries to think of something, anything, really, that she can say to hide how smitten she is – because she hates it, but that's probably the word for it – when -

"Wait, you checked on me?" she asks, confused. A smirk makes her way on her face when he starts to look embarrassed, and blushes.

Superman, the 'Man of Steel', as they call him, is _blushing_. Because of her, at that.

"Yeah, I mean – well, not in a creepy way or anything," he clears his throat, and wow, that blush is definitively staying. "Hopefully."

This time, Lois can't help her chuckle.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so I -" He abandons his attempts at any coherent explanation though, because she's laughing now, and he is, too. She likes it.

When they both calm down a little, he winces adorably, one eye shut. "I'm guessing this isn't such a good time to ask you out, is it?"

He's smiling, but she can see he's nervous, and that wakes butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

Boy, is she in a lot of trouble.

"What, you mean after admitting that you're my official stalker? Come on, it's the city - it's actually not that original, Kansas boy," she teases, and he relaxes.

"Yeah...I'm pretty boring, sorry."

"Ah, that's alright," she brushes his fake apology away. "I think I still like you."

* * *

He _loves_ beer – and more specifically, he loves Guinness.

Four times out of five, when they're out, he'll order one, which she personally doesn't understand.

"I really don't know how you can drink that."

"It's amazing," he frowns, genuinely confused at the thought that someone would not think it is, and she smiles. "You seriously don't like it?" Her disgusted face answers him.

He tilts his head to the side, fake desperation on his features. "So you hate popcorn _and_ Guinness. Wow, it's such a shame...I really thought this relationship could go somewhere," he adds with an exaggerated sigh, and she feigns disappointment, too.

"I know right?" she plays along, leaning across their booth table to close the distance between them. "Such a shame."

He's smiling when he kisses her.

* * *

His skin is amazingly, terribly, _wonderfully_ soft.

That's one of the things that come to her mind when she reaches and takes his hand, in the middle of that military base – she also briefly wonders how the world could be afraid of someone like him, regrets she didn't have more time to get to know him, hates this general Zod for coming to take him away.

She also notices it a few hours later, when the adrenaline is still rushing through her body – and probably his, too – and they're kissing in the middle of Metropolis ruins. He's talking, his grip firm on her waist, and her hands are in his hair, on his face, so soft, and then his hair again. He kisses her a second time, more hungry this time, and it vaguely crosses her mind that his lips are soft, too.

She only gets to properly enjoy it weeks later, though.

Following their first drink together – date, really – he walks her to her apartment, bike at his side as he's telling her all about that time the volcano he made for science class exploded and spread orange paint everywhere ( _"I still won, though."_ ), and she has to stop herself from reaching for his hand. When he's standing in front of her, though, their eyes at the same level as she stands on her building entry's steps, and he suddenly looks as nervous and shy as she feels, she can't: she closes the distance, and kisses him.

His eyes are still closed when she looks at him, and she smiles.

After that, they spend more evenings together than apart. Whether it's eating, going to the movies, going for a beer or even showing him around the city, every excuse is good enough. To her pleasure, the kissing continues – and God, is he good at that – shy at first, then more and more familiar, comfortable. Lois turns into a bit of a creep, her fingers always running over his so handsomely sculpted face, his chest, his stomach any chance she gets. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind at all.

(Then again, he's exactly the same with her.)

In a matter of days, her life starts to revolve around him, and Lois vaguely wonders if, along with a new found faith in humanity, he isn't also making her discover what an addiction feels like.

It's after one of those date nights that she finally gets to experience just how amazing Kryptonian men can feel, and make you feel. They're both buried in her sheets, and he's everywhere, his hands setting every inch of her body on fire with his touch, his scent intoxicating, her heart about to explode. He's strong, he's gentle, and his skin is oh so soft all around her, she thinks she might go insane.

Clark Kent is definitively, _definitively_ one addictive man.

(That night, she also learns that, on top of the kissing, he's also very good at the sex thing. She'd argue about how unfair it is for a man to have about all the qualities that can possibly exist, but she's too busy happily taking advantage of it.)

* * *

He talks in his sleep.

It's always _completely_ nonsensical, and Lois really, really enjoys listening to it, sometimes laughing so hard her stomach hurts. She takes a incredible amount of pleasure in knowing she's the one who gets to hear an adorable unconscious Superman mumble about the giraffe that's teaching him to make olive cakes.

* * *

He's the reading type, and _God_ , is she thankful for that.

Of course, that means he's as cultivated as they come, and she doesn't remember having conversations as diverse and interesting as she has with him. The man can get passionate talking about everything, from Plato to Phillip Dick, is constantly aware of what's happening in the world (which comes in handy for his second job) and can hold a conversation with her no matter what she throws at him, which is more that she could say for other men she's been with.

The main reason, though, is that, on a regular basis, she gets to see the strongest man on Earth lying on her sofa, chest uncovered, with a book in his hands and a concentrated look on his face.

And this, it turns out, is just the sexiest thing in the world.

* * *

He's a very tactile guy.

It's not even intentional, and she's pretty sure he doesn't even notice it, but he's just - always touching her. He's like that at home, of course, but not only.

When they're out, he has a habit of grabbing her hand, lacing her fingers together, or just throwing his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. Sitting next to her on a café, or sprawled on Metropolis' park green grass, his fingers will often run on her thighs or arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. At The Planet, he's very professional – not that she expected anything else – but whenever they finish a conversation, of leave each other's desk after dropping something off, his hand would often squeeze her shoulder, or brush the small of her back. When they go back to Kansas to visit, and he's talking to his mother or someone else in town, she notices he always plays with her fingers, or gently let his hand wander on her leg to let her know he knows and cares she's here.

And then, there's the comfort touches. The ones she's never shared with anyone before, just like he never has, either.

There's the times where he kisses her to make her feel better when she's too tired or down, of course, and the ones she kisses him better, hand gently running on the back of his neck, whenever someone question Superman's motives again, and she can see his heart break. There's the times where he can't save everyone, where he sees things impossible to bear for someone like him, and he comes home and needs her to hold him, and she does.

She's not used to that. She's never been the touching type, in fact, but with that particular farm boy, she's surprised to realize she doesn't mind at all. Loves it, really, and loves him all the more for it.

It's not like he's needy, or always trying to show some kind of ownership on her, it just feels - natural.

Way faster than she'd like to admit, she comes to actually long for it, and even surprises herself in being the one who actually initiates it.

She realizes it when she comes back from her first investigation away since she's met him. She's been India for three weeks, and now, waiting for him to get back from work to her apartment as they planned, she's almost jumping from excitement.

Sitting on her bed, Lois is reading her notes when she hears him come in (because yeah, he has a key - she still can't believe it, sometimes). There's a smile on her face before she's even up, and she races to her living room.

"Lo?" she hears just before she sees him, big bag still on his shoulders and glasses already off.

"Hey," she grins, and, as soon as he's within reach, she's all over him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

"I missed you," he mumbles in her hair, and she moves her head to kiss his cheek.

"I missed you too."

After that, she doesn't let go of him once, which, she knows, is really pathetic. They're not in some rom-com, damnit.

But she doesn't: she drags him in the shower with her, hugs him from behind when he's cooking them diner, and, just before they fall asleep, sweaty and exhausted, cuddles as close as she can, his massive arms surrounding her as she tangles their legs together.

Maybe she has become that girl, that lovesick one she's always made fun of – not that she'll ever admit that out loud – but she doesn't care, because she's pretty sure she's never felt more safe and comfortable in her entire life.

* * *

His favorite color is blue.

"Wow...you must have been relieved when your father took out that suit, then," she comments when he tells her, looking up from his neck as they're lazing cuddling on his couch in front of some action movie. "Although it would have been pretty funny if he had handed you a pretty pink one." A wonderful warmth spreads in her stomach when he laughs.

* * *

He loves, _loves_ black lingerie – and especially her in it.

One or two pieces are even lost to too much enthusiasm from his part, but Lois really can't say she minds.

* * *

His favorite super power is flying. His eyes sparkle when he talks to her about the adrenaline he gets, how free he feels, and the amazing things he sees.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you: would you like to come with me?" he asks one day. They're sitting on his couch, and he's gently rubbing her feet – something he's going to be doing a lot, given how good he is at it. It's life-changing.

She's a bit surprised at his proposition. Sure, they've been dating for a couple of weeks now, and him taking her out isn't a big deal in itself: him taking her out in the _air_ , however, kind of is.

Until now, his Superman side hasn't really impacted on his every day life, as far as she can tell: he doesn't use his heat vision to warm up his coffee, his super speed when he's running late, or his x-ray vision to look for things. He's just Clark Kent, a normal guy from Kansas.

That doesn't really come as such a surprise, once you know his story. After all, he had grown up like any other human, in a human environment, with a mom and a dad that worked hard to make him a good life and taught him very human values.

Superman or not, he's just a man, and sometimes, she wishes the world would know that.

A few seconds seem to have passed without her noticing, because suddenly he's talking again, his words rushing.

"I mean, it was just an idea, but it's okay if you don't. Forget I -"

"No, I want to," and she does. "I'm sorry, I was just a bit surprised because you don't usually use your powers at home, I guess. But I'd be honored," she grins, suddenly excited at the idea.

He relaxes, a small smile growing on his face, too.

"Well, no, but I wanted to at least share that with you."

He's doing that thing again, that thing where he says something so sweet and sincere at the same time she's taken by surprise, and she has a little trouble keeping her pulse at a normal rate – which is embarrassing, considering he can hear it – and all she can do is let her smile grow wider.

"Then what are we waiting for, Smallville?"

* * *

He really doesn't care much for reality TV.

She does, though – something she's not really proud of, franckly – and she has yet to give up on trying to make him. For now, it's pretty much a failure, as all he did until now was make fun of her.

It all starts when she's staying at his place one night. They just started officially going out, and she's waiting for him, cuddled up with a glass of wine on his couch as he's out being the prettiest superhero somewhere in the world – Bali, she thinks.

She's twenty minutes into the latest episode of The Bachelor when he comes back, suit a little dirty, but looking happy. She smiles back when he grins at her: with all the hard time the city gives him about his powers sometimes, it's amazing to see him like that.

"Hey," he greets, and she throws her head back to meet him when he bends down over the couch to kiss her, hand gently grazing her cheek.

"Hi," and wow, she's still not used to that. She hopes she never is. "I take it from that smile everything went okay?"

"Yeah - I got everyone out in time," he beams. "But I do need a shower," he says before kissing her again and heading to the bathroom. It's at that moment that he notices.

"What are you watching?" he asks with a frown she barely registers as her attention focuses on the TV again.

"The Bachelor," she says distractedly: she can't believe that guy just eliminated the girl that _clearly_ was the better choice in the whole mansion.

"The reality show?" and she's pretty sure he hears him chuckle when she confirms.

After that, it becomes a running gag, or rather a running thing he makes fun of her for - constantly.

At first, she has trouble making him sit down with her to watch it (" _No way, Lois"_ ). But he's still Clark Kent, the sweetest guy in the world, and when one day, she's home sick with a fever so high she thinks she might pass out, he obliges.

A soothing hand running through her hair, he patiently listens as she fills him up on what's been happening and the endgames of tonight's episode, and even asks one question or two to make sure he gets everything. She teases him, betting that from now on, he'll want to watch it with her every time instead of running to the kitchen – and the second TV in it – to hide.

As he predicted, he really doesn't, in the end, but she still thinks it's cute he tried.


	15. Two plus one makes three

"I'm afraid he'll have my temper," she said, feet hanging in the air.

"Quite frankly, me too," he smirked, the picture of relaxed as he laid with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head as if there actually was something underneath him. She slapped his chest for good measure, even though she was chuckling too: he looked _way_ too smug right now.

"Shut up. Your turn."

"Let's see...I'm afraid he won't like us and throw things at us."

" _That_ would definitively suck. Although don't worry, the risks are probably higher for me on this one: people usually hate me; they like you. And your reflexes are slightly better than mine, so I'll probably be the one with bruises."

"Considering you'll be providing the food, I don't think that theory will apply here," he chuckled. "What else?"

"I'm afraid he'll like his generation's Justin Bieber."

"I'm afraid he'll like _this_ Justin Bieber," and she laughed at that.

"I'm afraid he won't have any sense of humor."

"Oh God, I hadn't even thought about that," he made a face, suddenly looking genuinely worried for a second. "Okay, don't hit me, but I'm kind of afraid he won't like football," and she rolled her eyes, a smile on her face nonetheless.

 _So_ predictable.

Shaking her head fondly, Lois went back to watching the city underneath him, and Clark did the same, hand coming to rest and thumb gently running on her slightly rounded stomach. It wasn't exactly obvious yet, but if you looked carefully, you definitively could tell - which was why she had been avoiding tight, revealing tops lately. Not that she could hide it from the office much longer, now.

She laced his fingers with her own, and just enjoyed the slight breeze on her face. Them, and nothing but them.

"I'm afraid I'll be a bad mother because I work too much," she admitted quietly, eyes still fixed on the lights below them.

She felt his other hand in the small of her back. "A lot of working women raise children perfectly fine, Lo."

"I know that. It's just – I don't think people are wrong when they say I'm obsessed with my job," she chuckled, more nerve than anything else. "What if I can't go pick him up from school because I'm in a unplanned meeting with a source? Or if I miss his first steps because I'm somewhere in Saudi Arabia, going after a story? I mean, I'm ready to cut back a little, I _want to_ , but there's still be a chance I miss something. Which wouldn't be so terrible if it was just hard on me, but if that messes him up, then -"

She was babbling now, which wasn't exactly like her, but the lack of sleep, the stress from work and the fear of what was waiting for them in a few months were really starting to become too much, these days. There was also the slight problem of the pregnancy hormones, according to Clark, but that _so_ wasn't true.

"Hey," he stopped her, his fingers gently coming to make her look at him. She couldn't see a lot, in the cover of the night, but Lois could still see his reassuring smile. "I get that it worries you: it's completely normal. But it's going to be the same thing for me, you know – it's the same for every parent, now. We'll just try our best. We'll definitely miss something at one point, but that doesn't mean you'll be a bad mother," he adds softly, hand running on her thigh.

And he's probably right. He definitively is, in fact: she knows they'll figure something out, like everyone does, but -

"It's not just that," she added, almost shy, and she kept going at his confused expression. "I'm worried I'm not mother material. "

"Is that all that worries you?," and this time, it was her time to look confused.

" _'All_ '? Seriously?," and her eyes grew wide when he chuckled. _Chuckled?_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he tried to stop laughing at her infuriated face, and gently stroked her arm to make amend. "Okay, what do you call "mother material"?"

"Well, I don't know: actually _knowing_ something about babies and how to raise them, for one," she threw her hands in the air. "Clark, I've never changed a diaper in my entire life."

"Me neither."

"I don't know at what point you're supposed to give them real food."

"Me neither."

"I'm not even sure you're supposed to wash them with real water, at the beginning!," and he laughed out loud at that. She had never wanted to murder him more than she did right now.

"Again, me neither, and for some reason you think I'll make an amazing dad."

"You will," she said, because of course he will – that, she had no doubt about.

"Then why would it be different for you? We'll learn that stuff, Lo - we'll figure it out."

"You, probably; me, not so sure. I mean, with the sleep deprivation _and_ the trauma from the all giving birth thing, I'm not sure I'll be able to remember all the things we would have learnt – Clark, stop it, it's not funny: I might kill our kid!"

He laughed even more at that, and if she wasn't sitting on his chest a hundred feet above the city, she'd leave and slam the door. He'll probably call this pregnancy hormones, too, the traitor, when it was just a reasonable reaction to being pissed off.

With an exaggerated sigh, she moved to lie on him, back to his chest and arms crossed over her own, the only way she had not to look at him right now – and probably the only way to show she was pouting, even if she will not admit that.

Okay, maybe she _was_ experiencing pregnancy hormones, after all. Just a little.

"Come one, don't be mad," he coed, arms wrapping around her frame, one hand tickling her side. "Plus, there's one more thing that scares me, too."

She did want to let him know she was mad (way to behave like an adult, Lois), but his tone was pretty serious, waking her curiosity."What?"

He took a deep breath, and she angled her head so she could see him. "I'm afraid he'll be a republican," he finally said in an heavy sigh.

It took her a second to register what he just said, and then she was laughing, hard, and it was a good thing he had a good grip on her, because she was pretty sure she would have fallen otherwise.

When she finally calmed down, he spoke again. "I can't believe you're worried about diapers, and not about the fact that he might have my...abilities."

He was still smiling slightly, but there was that thing in his voice again, that thing that she could hear every time they talked about that possibility. Fear, regret, guilt.

Shifting carefully – she knew he'd catch her, but she'd still like to avoid the experience of falling from the sky _again_ \- Lois moved so she was on her stomach, and rested her head on her joined hands, just above his heart. He looked down at her, and she smiled.

For all of the times he told her not to worry about anything regarding the baby, she knew that that particular subject was eating him alive everyday. She could understand why: of course he wouldn't want his own son to live though all the same things he had.

He had to see it wouldn't be the case, though, superpowers or not.

"Well, there's nothing to worry about here, Smallville. I won't love him any less because he's different - on the contrary. I kind of have a thing for Kryptonian guys, you know," and she smiled even wider when that made him chuckle. "Don't worry about that, babe," Lois whispered softly, her thumb moving slowly on his chest between them.

"What if he is, though? What if he's not normal because of me?," and here it was. "The rest of the world won't be so gentle on him. And all those powers...He'll be so confused."

"Then we'll have to teach him all the things your parents taught you, and everything Jor-El taught you. As simple as that."

"It's not going to be - "

"Easy for him? Well, that's what we're here for: make it easier. I'll kick the ass of anybody that even thinks of making his life miserable, if that ever happens, and you'll be the one trying to clear my messes with diplomacy afterwards," she smirked.

He tried to smile, but, unsurprisingly, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I don't know, Lo," he looked back at the stars above them. "He'll have to be in control all the time, fear the eyes of others everyday. He'll feel so lonely."

Subconsciously or not, she knew Clark was just describing his own life right here, and, not for the first time since she's met him, that made her heart ache. No one deserved that, especially not him.

"He won't. He'll have you."

His eyes met hers again, at that, and it seemed like he only realized that now. "He'll have Martha, he'll have me, but more importantly, he'll have you: his Superdad who'll have all the answers because he knows exactly what he's going through. An handsome, wonderful dad who turned out pretty great, if I might say."

She knew he wasn't convinced, not completely, not yet – and maybe not ever. But he smiled, this time genuinely, and she felt a little better knowing he was, too, if only for now.

* * *

"Well, that looked...impossible," she said in a breath, voice joining the ones of the other couples in the room as the credits started to roll down.

Clark had known from the moment they walked in that this couldn't go well. No way. He had suspected so when the Lamaze teacher announced the program of the day, and knew for sure when the video started, and Lois' grip on him got so tight it made him glad to be the Man of Steel.

And really, he couldn't blame her.

They were all sat on the ground, the mothers between the fathers' legs, so at least he could try to soothe her by snaking his arms around her stomach and burying his face in her neck (maybe he also did that to hide from what was happening on the screen, but that was just...terrifying).

Frowning, he struggled for something, _anything_ to say to reassure her as they got up, but she spoke again.

She turned to face him, white as a sheet. "I'm not doing that, Clark. I'm _not._ "

"Okay, calm down. It's going to be okay."

"' _Okay'_? Clark, you saw it: it's awful!," and, from what he was hearing, she was not the only pregnant woman panicking right now. He vaguely wondered if the other men were doing better than he was.

"Yes, it does," he said, putting his hands around her as she buried her face in his shirt, holding on for dear life. "But there's ways to make it less painful, okay? You heard it yourself, they said you felt almost nothing."

"How could that possibly be true?," she asked, breathing still a little raged as she looked up at him, all at once terrified, teary and angry. "They are _so_ lying: there's no way that can _not_ hurt, Clark," she said, pointing at the television behind her without looking at it. "And it doesn't even matter, because I don't want their drugs! I don't, and – you know what? I don't care: I'm just not going to do it. That baby will just have to find another way out," and he tried not to laugh at that, because he honestly thought she was going to start crying right there. "I mean, I don't even understand how that woman got out of it alive, it's just -"

"Lo, breathe," he stopped her, hands coming to hold her face to make her focus on him. "Listen to me: if there's one woman strong enough to do this, it's you, okay? Come on, you've faced terrorists, aliens, even made a few of them cry: you can totally do this. And," he continued before she could stop him, "when it gets too much, I'll be here for you to yell at, hit, or throw things at, even though your aim is terrible," Clark joked with a smile, and was a little relieved when she finally chuckled.

He held her gaze for a few seconds, whispering he loved her as his lips brushed hers, and brought her to him again, letting her lace her arms around his neck.

"It's going to be okay. I promise," he mouthed against her skin, and smiled at the class teacher when she silently asked if Lois was okay – before going to rescue another mom who still wasn't doing so well.

"Yeah, well that baby better be worth it," she mumbled in his shirt.

This time, he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

* * *

Superman or not, Martha Kent was the first to know that, as every other human being, her son did get tired. In fact, as it turned out, apart from the enhanced senses and strength, Kryptonians were pretty similar to them in a lot of ways: they got hungry, they got thirsty, they could be comforted by a good dose of chocolate...

And they needed sleep.

She had witnessed that multiple times, of course – on a daily basis for more than twenty years. She could see Jonathan and him struggled to keep their eyes open after having spent the entire night watching old westerns, shook her head when he caught him nodding off in the middle of the day because he had snick out with Lana the night before, and sighted at the dark circles under his eyes during exam periods.

In thirty-five years, though, Martha had never, ever seen Clark more tired than he was now.

She had seen it as soon as they got out of the car, earlier. Not that it took a lot to notice, really: Lois could barely walk straight, and Clark kept losing track of every single conversation they were having. Martha had to try very hard not to smile at how those walking zombies reminded her of Jonathan and herself, just after the sky blessed them with their little blue eyed-boy.

Right now, though, she couldn't repress her chuckle: coming from the kitchen, she found them literally passed out on the couch, Lois sitting head thrown back on the cushion behind her with a teddy bear still on one hand, the other on his back as Clark not so graciously laid on her laps, one arm around her waist, one arm hanging from the couch.

It was as funny as it was adorable.

Even if she couldn't have left for more than five minutes, they were already in a deep sleep, none of them aware of anything going on around them. Not that she could blame the poor kids: they had been awake for close to twenty-four hours, at that point.

Making sure to capture the scene on Clark's phone, Martha shook her head at them, and turned to the reason for all of this.

"Well well: looks like you've managed to exhaust those two, haven't you?," she grinned at the little piece of perfection in the baby basket next to them.

Martha knew that as the grandmother, she was probably the most biased person in the world, but she honestly couldn't imagine how there could be a more beautiful child than this one.

He looked a lot like Clark, for now – " _Thank God_ ", Lois had said, and she had laughed as Clark rolled his eyes behind her – eyes the brightest blue and hair as dark as it got, but he did have her nose. That, and the same tendency to brighten up when Clark entered a room, which always made Martha smile.

He grinned when she bend down to pick him up, smiley as always – she didn't remember ever seeing a toddler smile so much – little hands coming to wrap around her neck as much as they could as he cuddled close. If there was one thing she'll always believe, it was that there was not a better feeling in the world than this one.

"Hello, there," she whispered softly, dropping a kiss to that soft little head of his. "Come on, let's go take a walk while those two get some rest, huh?"

Grabbing a small blanket, she gently tugged it around his little body and with a last look at them, went out with her grandson in her arms.

* * *

Lois knew that, technically, there was no chance that this could go wrong. After all, he had very, very fast reflexes, precision, focus, and, oh, he was Superman.

So yeah, technically, there was no risk. None at all.

Still, she didn't like it, and she really, _really_ wanted him to cut it out.

Now.

"Clark, can you – please stop."

He wasn't really paying attention to her, though: laughing along with the way too happy little terror resting on his right hand alone, he kept flexing his arm up and down, up and down as if he didn't weigh anything. Way too up, if you asked her.

"Come on Lo, it's okay. I got him," he said with a smile, eyes still fixed on the small blue eyes looking down at him, still not stopping. "We're okay, aren't we, champ?"

The protest forming on her lips was cut by another round of laughing from a five month-old Jon, who, of course, was having the time of his life, his dimples showing more than ever. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the two of them and the sound of that little one, almost forgetting about what she was going to say – until Clark pushed up again, and she saw nothing but the distance between his little head and the hard floor.

(Okay, carpet-covered floor, but it didn't change much.)

"Clark, I'm begging you," she made a face, detourning her gaze to not look directly at them.

"Alright, alright," he finally conceded, still chuckling, and gently put the toddler back down on his chest. "Don't worry, we'll do it again when she's not looking," he added with a smile, head turning to look at her from his laying position on the floor.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to glare at him, not quite managing to as she felt the corners of her lips go up despite her will.

"Ahah. Now stop with the smirk and get up: it's bath time, and it's your turn, Smallville."

* * *

With a grunt, Bruce ran a hand over his face, trying to wake up and gather the will not to kill the person who just knocked on his door at the same time.

Which turned out to be a waste of time, considering he couldn't kill him even if he wanted to, anyway.

"Wow, answering you own door?," he teased, a mocking smirk on his face.

"Wow, still hiding behind those stupid glasses?," he snapped back, leaning on the door as Clark rolled his eyes at him. "Alfred is in Gotham these days. What do you want?," he asked, still in a bad mood, eyes briefly stopping on what he was carrying.

"One question first: are you still drunk?"

"What? No, I'm not. I wasn't even drinking last night."

"Perfect. So you're alone?"

"Yes, I'm alone," he sighed, getting more annoyed by the second. "The ask, Kent."

"Well, Lois is in DC for the day, Jennifer just bailed on us, and I need to meet a witness right now, so I need your help," he said, and Bruce's eyes set on the little jumping thing in horror as he realized what he was asking. "And yes, Jennifer is our baby-sitter," Clark finished with a smile, apparently amused.

"Oh no. No."

"Oh yes. You're the only one available," he chuckled, passing him a huge blue bag that he immediately dropped, shaking his head no.

"I don't care! And it's not even true: what about Diana?"

"She's on a plane to Paris. With the rest of the League," he added before Bruce could add anything. "Which you'd know, if you had paid any attention at the meeting two days ago. I wrote everything you need to know on a piece of paper inside the bag for you, so there shouldn't be any problem," he continued as he passed him the very smiling baby, not leaving him any choice but to take him. "But if you need anything, you can call me or Lois."

Before he understood what was happening to him, Bruce stood at his front door with a baby bag at his feet, a teddy bear in his hand and a little blue-eyed boy touching his face, babbling happily.

"Okay, you're all set. I explained everything to him on our way here - "

"He doesn't even know how to speak."

" - so I think he got it. Plus, he's used to being babysit, and he knows you, so everything should go well. Don't worry," he smiled - _smirked_.

"What are you – _I_ don't know him. I don't even remember his name!"

"Yes, you do."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change the fact that I don't know how to do this, and I'm not doing it," he argued, finger raised threateningly at him. "Kent, I'm warning you, if you leave me here with him - "

"Relax Bruce, it will be okay," he smiled, kissing the kid's head. "See you tonight, Champ."

"Tonight?!"

He turned back and headed to the elevator, and, once inside, turned to get one more look at them, chuckling. Bruce was pretty sure he had never wanted to murder someone more.

"Don't kill my son, Bruce."

And with that, the doors closed and he was gone, leaving him with a happy toddler laughing at him.

* * *

Grunting at her stupid luggage which apparently decided to follow the rest of the universe and make her as miserable as she could and hit the even more stupid wall, Lois dragged herself in the airport, feeling more exhausted than she had in a while.

Which, considering that she was a fiercely dedicated reporter who always gave herself to her stories a hundred percent, _and_ the girlfriend of a certain superhero who sometimes kept her up with worry at night as he went to save the world, _and_ the mom of a bordering hyperactive three year-old, was saying something.

An eighteen days long investigation abroad. Conditions in the top five of the worst she had to live through in an assignment. Discoveries of the kind that made you want to throw up. An entire day of travelling back home, without being able to sleep through the damn thing.

No Kent boys for almost three freaking weeks.

Ever since that one Kryptonian had come into her life, those type of missions had become less and less...thrilling. Well, not that exactly, but she did get less excited to go every time.

Of course, he had offered to come with her sometimes. One problem with that, though: the fact that she was now dating a superhero didn't mean she was not some damsel in distress who needed assistance - she had managed fine before they met, thank you very much ( _"Don't, smirk, Smallville, the whole getting in the middle of the Kryptonians fight doesn't count."_ )

He didn't insist –not that she would ever accept that - and knew that she was just who she was, and only showed disappointment at the fact that he couldn't visit her, as it would be very odd if Superman was to show up in the exact spot of the world Lois Lane, publicly dating Clark Kent, was.

Ever since another little person came to join them, though, the prospect of having to go in one of those missions again scared her more than anything.

She still loved her job, of course, and she did want to go dig about dictators in Russia, or awful corporate behavior in South America. She lived for that stuff.

But she was a mother now, and there was nothing, _nothing_ more important than that boy – him, and his superhero of a father, that is. From what Martha told her, you never got ride of that constant worry about their safety, no matter how grown up they are, but he was three and a half, for crying out loud.

Which, if you asked her, was way too soon to be separated from his mom for close to two entire weeks for the first time: hence the dropping feeling in her stomach when Perry handed her her ticket, a month ago.

It's not that she didn't trust Clark to take care of him – of course she did. There was only one person she completely trusted with her life _and_ his, and that was him. Hell, he even was a better parent than she was, frankly.

But, as it turned out, no matter how safe you know it is, and no matter how little time you're going to be gone, in the end (two weeks wasn't that long of an assignment – she still remembered her two months stay in Russia), leaving your own flesh and blood behind still ripped your heart out.

It literally took everything she had not to cry in front of him at the airport – which she eventually did on the privacy of the full airplane – trying to reassure him softly as he asked her how soon she would be back, his blue eyes filled with (mostly) unshed tears. Clark saw right through it, of course, and even if she knew it wasn't the idea, his encouraging smile made it even more difficult not to start crying right there.

If someone had told her a couple of years ago that that was how she was going to react to leaving Metropolis for a few days, she would probably have rolled her eyes and laughed. Lately though, she had started to get a new found comprehension for those dramatic mothers that used to make her smile.

The all nightmare of a flight she just had, and even the bad memory of that day were almost worth it, though, when she spotted her two favorite dark-haired men in the crowd, Sam holding on to his father's neck, sitting on his arm with a focused expression on his little face as Clark explained something to him.

He must have felt her, though – or whatever he did to know where she was – because he looked up at her, a huge grin mirroring her own on his face, and whispered something to Sam before putting him down, pointing in her direction.

"Mommy!," he yelled as he started to run towards her on those two chubby little legs of his, almost tripping a couple of times.

Bending down to his level, she opened her arms, catching him as he threw himself at her. "Hi, honey," she laughed, holding as tight as she could without stopping him form breathing. "Oh, I missed you so much," she mumbled, and proceeded to cover every surface of his face with kisses.

"I missed you too, mommy," he grinned, one tooth missing, "Look, I lost my tooth!"

"I can see that," she chuckled, making a show of being impressed. "Did the tooth fairy come?"

"Yes! She gave me stickers, and candies, and _five dollars_!"

"Wow! You're very lucky, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I was asleep, so I didn't see her. But Dad did!"

"Did he now," she looked up at said dad, smirking knowingly at him as she got up, Sam by her sides. "Should I be jealous?", and Clark chuckled.

"Well, she _was_ really nice," he played along, hand bringing her close.

Smiling like the smitten woman she had come to be, Lois threw her arms around his neck, holding tight. "Hey," she whispered just before closing the distance between them.

"Hi. Welcome home, miss Lane."

* * *

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," she smiled at his amazed expression, mouth slightly open and wide eyes still fixed on the waiting room television in front of them. He hadn't stopped looking at it, even though it was the third time the news broadcast the images of Clark saving minors in Columbia.

"I like Superman. He always do nice things."

"' _Does_ ', sweetie. But yes, he always is doing nice things," Lois said, dropping a kiss on his cheek, arms firmly locked around his stomach as he sat on her laps. "I like him, too."

"You know, at school the other day, Jenny asked who we thought was the most awesome man in the world, because she thought it was the Batman, and my friend Alan said Superman," he said, looking up at her.

"Really? Well, there both great choices – but I do think your friend Alan is right," she whispered conspiratorially at him, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, I think Alan's more right than Jenny, too," and thank God for that: Bruce wouldn't have miss a single opportunity to remind it to Clark if his son loved the Bat more than the Kryptonian hero.

"So, what did your friends say when you said Superman?"

"Oh, I didn't: I said Dad," he casually said, turning his attention back to the book in his hands. "Dad's awesome."

Stunned for a few seconds, Lois just stared at him, his entire focus on the adventures of Eddy the Bear, not even realizing what he just said, because it was just so obvious to him.

"Yeah - he really is," she smiled, the pit of her stomach warming.

She made a note to tell Clark about that.


	16. Concessions

"Do you love me?"

"I do."

"Then don't do this me."

A small smile, a roll of his eyes: _failed, Lane_. Not that she'd thought this would work.

"I'm doing it _because_ I love you." He extends his hand. "Hand it over."

"Come on, Clark," she whines, because there's not much left to try at this point. "I don't even do it that often, it's just -"

"Pretty much at every break you take?"

"I don't take that much breaks."

"You're on that roof at least twice a day."

"That's not - "

"Yes, it is." He motions for her to give it again, and she glares.

"You know, I'm a big girl: if I want to smoke, I can smoke. It's my decision."

He shrugs, crosses his arms. "Fine: then it's my decision to refuse to kiss you or come near you every time you do because the smell is terrible."

Damn him.

"That's not fair: it doesn't bother you that much."

"Maybe, maybe not. So, what's your call?"

She stares, hoping to find some kind of hope for negotiation in his eyes. He just rises his eyebrows expectantly at her, a slight smile on his face because he knows he won.

"Fine," she mutters, throwing her pack at him - which, of course, he catches easily without even looking. "I quit. But I'm having this one."

Grinning, he takes the cigarette she's still holding away, and leans in to kiss her instead. "No, you're not," he says against her lips.

He pecks her one more time, and then starts walking backward towards the staircase door, victory written all over his stupid handsome face.

"Come on, Perry's looking for us: break's over."

She sighs.


	17. Gone

He knows it's probably not the best thing to do, but he leaves.

He has to.

So he stops by their apartment, gets off of the suit, heavier to wear than he'd ever think it'd be, changes, and heads for the door.

He passes by a picture of Lois on his way, the one he took back in Smallville, and sees her expression from minutes ago again. The one that showed how much she cared, and how sorry she was to have to helplessly watch him live through that.

He wants to leave her a note, but he doesn't know what to say. He takes his phone for when he will.

On the cold mountains, he sees his dad. He doesn't know how that's possible, but it doesn't matter: he's here, and God knows how Clark needs him.

Not for the first time, Jonathan reminds him to have faith. You make mistakes, you always will, and nothing's going to be easy, but that just the way the world goes. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do about it, except learning to live with it.

And if you're lucky, sometimes, it can even get easier, when you find someone willing to help you carry the burden.

He thinks of Lois - of course he does. She's what his mother was to his dad. She's the one that kept the demons at bay until now. She's his world.

He's known that for a while, falling for her even harder everyday, and the longing to be home with her he felt ever since he left is stronger than ever as he stands there, his dad gone.

He fought it, because he couldn't face the world anymore. Not this one, not when it was so hard.

But Lois is the one that had pulled him back together after Zod, the one that had been there ever since. Maybe his dad is right. Maybe this time, she'll be able to make it okay again, no matter how bad it's gotten.

He makes his way down the mountain. When he turns on his phone, there's a dozen messages from her. Vocal ones from just after the explosion at the Capitol, a few texts. And then, there's one from the day after - after he left, after she let him leave without trying to stop him, or calling him back, even if he knew she wanted to.

' _I love you.'_

He heads back to Metropolis.


	18. Grumpy

Lois is the grumpy one: no argument possible.

She knows it, he knows it, the Planet knows it, and she thinks that their usual barista is pretty aware of it too, by now.

No surprise there.

What is truly surprising, though, is that Clark Joseph Kent can get pretty grumpy, too.

Of course, it's not _that_ crazy to imagine, considering he's just a man, in the end, and he's very allowed to get up on the wrong foot, or get the one too many annoying thing of the day to piss him off. Still, coming from Mr Perfect, it _is_ always surprising when it happens, and, if you ask her, pretty funny, too.

(She has to admit, it always makes her feel better, because sometimes, next to that gentle, nice farmboy, she thinks she really looks like a bitch.)

It doesn't take her long to figure out that it has been one of those days for him.

She's taking a bath, allowing herself to relax after ten days of relentless info hunt, when she hears him come in. He must have tripped over something, because there's the sound of something falling, followed by a mumbled swear.

She smiles.

"Everything alright, Smallville?"

He mumbles again and, three seconds later, enters the bathroom. She tries not to chuckle.

"Hi." There's an annoyed frown on his pretty little face, and she drops her magazine and reaches for him, itching to make it go away.

She loves that part.

"Hey," he whispers against her lips, and he lingers a little as she runs her fingers on his nape. He backs away, and smiles a little. "How was your day?"

"Fine: I finally have everything I need for my article. Care to join me and tell me how shitty yours was?", and he groans.

"More than you know."

He undresses right there, and she angles her head to properly enjoy the view – something that, after two years, she still hasn't got tired of - and he rolls his eyes at her appreciative smirk.

He can't help his sigh as he settles against her, back to her chest, and she wraps her legs and arms around his muscular frame. His heads drops on her shoulder, and she kisses his cheek gently, one hand on his chest, one in his hair.

Lois feels his entire body relax, and she nuzzles him, chuckling. "You know, there's really weird stuff up here."

"Building falling in Russia" is his only explanation, eyes still closed.

"Dive."

He does, and when he comes back up, his head comfortably settling back on the same spot with a moan of pleasure, she starts removing every piece out of his dark curls.

They stay silent while she does, and she thinks he's fallen asleep, but when she stops, he whines. "Don't stop."

God, him and his hair thing. Although to be fair, it would be lying to say she didn't enjoy it, too.

She happily obliges, and he kisses the side of her neck lazily as a thank you.

"You didn't come back to sleep last night."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I got caught up in Argentina."

"It's okay," she whispers, legs unwrapping and entangling with his. "But you look exhausted. And I'm thinking that disagreement with Perry didn't help?"

"Yeah, you could say that – at one point, he said we were the most annoying couple he ever met, by the way," and she laughs at that. "And then I broke my bike, spilled coffee all over Jenny and myself, had to listen to Woodburn saying how full of himself Superman was all over Channel 4, and didn't eat because I was too busy running around for intels all day."

Okay: definitely the right to be grumpy. She moves her hands up and down his arms, fingers briefly gripping his.

"Well, if it helps, you looked good on the picture Channel 4 put up," she tries to joke, both arms now around his neck, and she grins, biting her lips, when he chuckles and gives her a real smile. He finally opens his eyes, precious little blue things looking up at her, and she kisses his temple. "I love you. So: wine, take out and a movie?"

"Sounds great. Five more minutes, though." He closes his eyes again, and lets his head fall back on her shoulder.


	19. Quiet

Some days, it gets really bad.

He doesn't take it out on her, never does - of course he doesn't: he's Clark, the kindest and sweetest thing in the world, even in his hardest and darkest moments.

But sometimes, the things Superman sees and has to live through are just too much, and going back to Clark is just not that easy. She doesn't blame him.

He usually flies over the city - over the world - then, in some cases for hours, only coming back to her when he's forgiven himself enough to look at her again, or when it's so bad he needs her to help him do that. Other times, he comes back to the office, or back home, but the look on his face tells her she needs to give him some space. It kills her, but she does.

Tonight is one of those nights.

She knows in which state she'll find him as soon as she hears it: Superman tried, but even him couldn't save everyone, this time. Natural disasters are such messy things, Gods themselves can't contain the terrible consequences.

Lois rushes home, because if he decides to come back to the apartment right away, she needs to be there.

As it turns out, she's surprised to find out that he does.

She's been home for half an hour, sitting cross-legged in the couch with her computer in her lap, when he comes in. She doesn't look up, simply reaching to run her fingers on his back when he walks behind her to gather some clothes. He says nothing, but she feels his fingers graze her neck when he walks back to lock himself in the shower.

He stays there for at least forty minutes. She orders food, because at some point he'll be hungry, and she wants him to have something he actually likes - hence the not cooking herself.

When he eventually gets out, he doesn't come join her where she settled on the table to finish her article, and she lets him head towards their bedroom without saying anything. It takes her about half an hour to be happy with it, and by the time she's done, she thinks it's okay to go see him.

It has to anyway, because she can't stay away a moment longer.

Leaving only the leaving room light on, she makes her way towards their bedroom, and silently opens and closes the door behind her. Her bare feet barely make any sound as she heads to him, lying on his back, one hand behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, wide awake.

She takes his sweatshirt off and, left in nothing but her nightgown, crawls into bed with him.

She kisses him once, twice on his cheek, hand running on the other one, and listens as he releases a soft sigh. She lays then, body more on him than on the mattress, and lets her arms settle around his stomach, head in the crook of his neck.

"How was your day?", he asks after a few seconds.

"Fine, I guess. I mean, I did slip and fall flat on my face in front of the witness I had to question, but hey, shit happens."

"What?", and Lois feels him looking down at her, and looks up to meet his eyes. He's half intrigued, and definitively half amused, and she's proud of herself when, a small smile on his face, he seems to forget about his terrible day for a second.

Suddenly, the pain on her knee and the humiliation she felt earlier that day are oh so worth it.

"Yeah...Unfortunately, it was as ridiculous as it sounds. Although to my defense, it wasn't completely _my_ fault", she starts, and she feels his small chuckle through her own chest.

She tells him about the all stupid thing, smiling despite the painful _"Uh miss? You still have a bit of grass in your hair"_ that made her face went red because she makes him laugh, and she can't remember anything more important than being able to do that. He asks about other embarrassing Lois Lane stories, and she tells him, and eventually, she kisses him to shut him up.

They eat, they watch some scary TV show, and they end up back in bed, that time not to talk.

After, she waits until he's asleep, his head resting on her chest, her fingers still running through his thick hair. When she's positive he is, she lets sleep take her, too.


	20. Apple pie

"So, when you say you love me more than anything, I'm guessing it _doesn't_ include my mother's apple pie?"

Surprised, Lois looked up from her plate to see him stare at her from his place at the end of the table, an half amused, half bemused look on his still sleepy face.

"What?"

"You really seem to have a special relationship with it, that's all". He was barely stopping his chuckle now, and she looked down to see that the third – forth? - piece she _just_ helped herself with was already gone.

She felt her cheeks redden, and glared at him and his stupid smirk.

"Well, I'm eating for two, and last time I checked, you kinda had something to do with that, didn't you?"

"Oh, I totally agree, go ahead – you need it. I'm just saying - you have crumbs in your hair, babe."

Her hands immediately flew to her curls to get ride of it, and he laughed, abandoning his cereals to look at her, apparently really enjoying the show. If he wasn't this cute, looking glorious in the morning light with his pillow hair messily tousled and smile as beautiful as it got, she'd probably murder him right there.

"You know, if your mother was still here, she'd kick your ass for making fun of me," she said, and she could hear the pout in her voice.

"Good thing she's at work, then," and she threw her napkin at him.

"I am so telling her," she threatened, an he leaned in, fingers gently coming to graze over her stomach and face burying in her neck. She barely contain a sigh - he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, the jerk.

"Come on, don't pout," he mumbled against her skin before looking back up at her, and dropped a small kiss in her lips. "I think it's cute," he smiled, and Lois felt herself melt: morning Clark was _definitively_ her biggest weakness. Damn.

She let him kiss her again, once, twice, hand slidding up his neck before pushing him away. She grabbed her glass of juice, and smiled as she took a sip.

"Nice try, Smallville – but I'm still telling on you."


	21. Mother's Day

"Wow, that was fast – even for you."

Confused, Lois looked up from his neck where she'd happily burried her face, arms still around his broad shoulders as she met his eyes.

They were heading to Smallville for the day. Ideally, they would have like to go for the all week end, but the story they were on really didn't allow them to, and they had to settle for just Sunday. So, Sunday it was.

She was reluctant about going, at first. Not because she didn't want to, because she did: she really, really liked Martha. She was a strong woman, which Lois both admired and respected, she was witty, and always amused her with Clark's childhood stories, which he hated, considering that most of the time, she made a point of choosing the embarassing ones. And it was more than that: being the only ones to know about Superman, the only ones to know who he truly was, and what he had to face, and to feel such a need to protect him no matter what - it connected them, in a way.

But despite all that, the fact was that they only had known each other for a year, and Lois was afraid that coming to join Clark and her for Mother's day, _her_ special day, might be imposing.

If Clark's roll of his eyes and constant reassurements didn't completely convince her, Martha's reprimanding phonecall made the trick ( _"I can't believe you told your mom on me, Smallville!" "Yeah, well, you wouldn't listen to me, and she would have killed me if I showed up alone: you didn't really give me a choice, Lo"_ ).

And so she packed her stuff with Clark's in his bag, pulled her hair in a ponytail – she knew better, now: a couple of flights with her hair all over her face while he laughed, amused, taught her - and headed to Smallville, Kansas in his arms. And, apparently, made it there a lot faster than usual.

Gently putting her down, he smiled, something close to nervousness behind his pretty baby blues.

"Actually, I thought we'd make a stop first."

Chuckling, she cocked her head to the side, curious – until she took in their surroundings, and immediately understood where they were. Not that it was difficult, considering she had spent most of her teenage years there.

Slowly turning to face the wooden space before her, her eyes effortlessly find the familiar stone she used to speak to, and felt so guilty about not visiting anymore.

"How did you -", she started, but her voice got stuck in her throat.

"You told me where it was a while ago. And I know you can't come here often, and that it kills you, so I thought I'd take advantage of the all flying thing," he said, and she looked back at him, still at loss for words as he smiled sweetly at her. "I didn't think it was fair that I was the only one who got to see my mother today."

For a few seconds, Lois didn't know what to say.

She just – she couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe him.

She smiled too, then, biting her lower lip in an attempt to keep all the emotions that suddenly build up from turning into tears, and closed the small distance between them to hug him, arms holding him tight and face back in the crook of his neck.

"That's the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me," she whispered when she could, and felt his smile against her skin. "Thank you."

Leaning back, Clark dropped a small kiss to her lips, drying the small tear that made her way on her cheek as he smiled gently down at her.

"Anytime."

Chuckling in her tears, Lois kissed him again, and grabbed his hand.

"Come on, Smallville: time to meet my mother."


	22. Battle wound

"Aow!"

With a mumbled swear, Lois drops the knife, pain shooting through her finger as blood starts pouring. Before she has the time to do anything, Clark's by her side, a worried look on his beautiful face.

"Oh, jeez. Are you okay?," he asks gently, and quickly wraps his kitchen towel around her skin.

"Yeah, I'm fine - it's nothing." It's _is_ something: it hurts like freaking hell.

Either she's a bad liar or he's gotten pretty good at reading her – not that it must be hard, given that she's pretty sure her face is deformed in a pained frown – because he's looking at her with his big, compassionate eyes, a sweet smile on his face as he keeps pressure on her battle wound.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Don't move," he says, and two seconds later, he's back with a small bandage.

He delicately puts it on, conscientious and focused, and Lois feels butterflies wake in the pit of her stomach. When he's done, Clark gently kisses her finger and looks up at her, a huge grin on his face when he sees she's looking at him, too, and she thinks her chest might explose.

Oh God, is she in trouble.

"There – as good as new," he whispers, pecking her lips, her temple before going to put everything back in his tiny bathroom.

Trying to compose herself again – _come_ on _, Lois_ \- she realises something.

"Why do you even have bandages?," she asks with a frown as she brings the evil utensile in the sink to wash it. "Afraid of Kryptonite cuts or something?," she smirks above her shoulder.

Chuckling, he shakes his head as he comes back. " _Actually,_ I bought them because I noticed someone managed to cut herself with paper more than once at the office in my first month alone," and Lois looks up at him as he comes to stand behind her to grab something on the shelf above her.

"You got them for me?," she asks before she can stop herself, voice a little higher than usual.

Finally finding what he was looking for, he looks down at her, shrugging as if that was the most natural thing in the world. "Yeah."

And, with a smile and a kiss to her cheek, he goes back to his vegetables and leaves her there, with a slightly redden face and an embarassingly huge grin.

 _So_ much trouble.


	23. Wake up call

The first thing she's aware of is fingers gently running up her spine, then back down in an even slower motion, the touch light as air. Smiling at the sensation, she moves her head on her pillow, turning to suddenly feel the warmth of the early morning sun on her face.

There's a weigh, then, gently landing on top of her – heavy, and yet careful, so careful not to crush her. It's soft and familiar, just like the kisses that make their way on her bare shoulders, neck and jaw as two arms come to frame her face.

It tickles, and Lois bites her lips, butterflies waking in her stomach. She's more safe and comfortable than she ever recall being, and she doesn't want to move, but she also wants more of him, and so she turns around and draps her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer so she can properly kiss him.

She doesn't know how long they stay like, her lips lazily moving against his, but when they stop, he drops a last peck on her mouth, her nose, her cheek.

Grinning, she finally opens her eyes and meet his, hovering all perfect with his tousled hair and his sleepy face over her.

"Happy birthday, my love," Clark whispers, gently nuzzling her.

Chuckling, she lets her fingers travel on his handsome features for a second, then bring him back down. " The best one yet."

* * *

 _In honor of Lois Lane's birthday._


	24. Proud

_Inspired by the article written about Clark after his death._

* * *

Even with his "super hearing," as Lois called it, Clark didn't eavesdrop on conversations around him. Never had ever since his parents taught him how to block the noises around him, in fact: not only was it rude and not the way he has raised, it was also the kind of thing that could turn against you pretty easily (he really would have preferred not to learn about his math teacher night time activities at 13 years old - or ever).

Still, with the couple sitting right behind him and him having nothing to do but wait, it was really hard not to hear them - especially when it was about him.

"Of _course_ Superman would beat him: he'd kick Godzilla's ass in a second," the girl said as if it was the most obvious thing in world, and Clark looked down, hiding his chuckle.

"I don't even know why we're playing that game," her boyfriend said, and he could hear the eye roll in his voice. "You'd pick him as a winner in any fight."

"Well, he _is_ the best. Oh, come on, our table is ready!"

Smiling, Clark watched the couple leave the inner court and walk back into the restaurant, his good mood enhanced. At the same time, Lois crossed the door, grinning when she finally spotted him, and his own smile only grew bigger.

"Hey," he said when she was near. Gently taking his face between her hands, she leaned in for a kiss as she came to stand between his legs.

"Hi. I'm sorry I'm late, I got caught up with a source," she apologized, although there was still a smile on her features.

"It's okay - our table isn't even ready yet, anyway. You look happy," he said with a smile of his own, hands on the soft fabric that covered her thighs, growing suspicious.

She put her hands on his shoulders, the tips on her fingers playing with his hair, playing innocent. "Do I?"

"Mmhm. Should I be worried?," he dared to ask, only half joking.

With Lois, a smile like that could mean anything, from them having won the lottery to her getting it in her head to put him in a speedo.

(To his distress, she won this one. The few people that were on that small beach stared a lot - including Lois - , he hated every second of it, and she grinned the entire time.)

"Nope - not this time. Except if you're scared of everyone knowing what a great reporter you are, of course, in which case you _definitively_ should be."

"What?"

She beamed at his confused expression. "Congratulations, Smallville: you just won the Elliot Prize for Investigative Journalism for the second time," she said, taking an open envelope out of her bag.

Still not quite understanding, Clark got up and took it, eyebrows raising as he read its content.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have opened it, but when I saw the stamp, I knew what it was, and I couldn't resist," she rushed, and he looked up and started to smile as well. "You're the first journalist at the Planet to ever achieved that. I'd know - I wanted it to be me," she rolled her eyes for show, and Clark chuckled.

"Really?"

"Really," she smiled as she closed the small space between them and kissed him, arms snaking around his neck.

Smiling, he kissed her back, enjoying her warmth all over as she pecked his cheek, then hugged him close.

"I'm so proud of you, babe," Lois whispered, and as he buried his face in her hair, Clark wondered what he possibly did to deserve all of this.

In the past two years, Superman had managed to prove himself as best he could, winning the trust and confidence of the city he had tried so hard to defend against its own people. But despite all of that, he was still Clark Kent, farmboy from Smallville, Kansas, and knowing that was he was doing mattered and was appreciated as well brought an entire different kind of achievement. He didn't do it for the prizes, of course, but getting recognized for the only job he ever had that he truly loved wasn't that bad of a feeling.

All of this was nothing, though, compared to the feelings brought by the woman in his arms, whispering how proud she was over and over again, and how much she loved him. His whole world.

He felt her gently kissed his neck, and his eyes fluttered close. Before he could do the same, the waiter came to the door again.

"Kent's table is ready!"

Detaching herself from him, Lois dropped a last peck on his lips, then took his hand and dragged him inside, grinning.

"Come on, superstar - it's my treat."


	25. A mother's advice

_Set before "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice"._

* * *

Laughing, Martha gets up to put her dishes in the sink, all the while keeping an eye on the TV. She likes this Jimmy Fallon boy - always funny. When she turns towards the door, though, her attention is picked by another boy she likes.

Her favorite one, in fact.

Frowning, she opens the screen door, and, tightening her small cardigan around her chest, goes into the night to join her superhero of a son.

"Clark?," she calls, and he stops to look at her, apparently surprised. Which doesn't happen often, really (never, actually, which is why in eighteen years, she never caught him watching TV instead of doing his homework, even though she knew full well he did it: the boy could hear her come from a mile away). "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He's not wearing his suit, which is also odd, considering he always is, when he comes here flying. In top of everything, the fact that he looks all at once stressed, worried, and lost confirm that something is definitely not right.

"Nothing, nothing, I - Hi," and she smiles, bringing his broad figure close to hug him.

"Hi, honey. So, what's going on?," she raises her eyebrows, facing him. He looks worried for a few more seconds, and then chuckles a little, and it feels like a huge load is lifted from her chest - he's okay.

Happy, even, given the huge smile he's suddenly trying to contain.

He shakes his head, trying to get a hold.

"I uh - I realized something today."

"Yeah? And what's that?," she asks, patient.

Although the tiniest bit shy, his smile is bigger than it has ever been. "How did Dad ask you to marry him?"

It takes Martha a moment to understand what he means, and when she does, she can't help her own smile from mirroring his.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see that one coming," and he chuckles before his face suddenly and adorably turns slightly panicked again.

"Does it really show that much?", and Martha just has to roll her eyes.

"What, that you're head over heels for her? Yeah, just a bit," she answers with irony, and he gives her an half reprimanding, half amused look. "Well, I knew it because I'm your mom and I've never seen you like that with anyone else. But to be honest, I'm pretty sure anyone who's ever seen how you look at her when she's not looking is aware of it too, sweetheart. Sorry."

In the moonlighted night, she can see him blush a bit, and she stops herself from teasing him further.

"I just - I don't know if the timing's right. I mean, we've only known each other for less than two years." He sighs, almost frustrated. "I don't even know if she'll even consider saying yes."

She gives him a blank look.

"We've never talked about it, mom. I don't even know how she feels about marriage - although knowing her, there's a good chance I won't like the answer. And I didn't even know I wanted it, either, but I just - "

He shrugs, struggling to find the words. "I can't see myself without her now. She's - everything."

They say that when a son falls in love is the most painful day of a mother's life. Yet, seeing Clark with Lois all this time, finally having found someone that he can trust, lean on and that looks at him like the unique, wonderful person that he is was everything Martha ever wanted for her little boy.

If there was a thing she knew, it was that those two were in it for the long haul. Considering that, hearing her, and now him so unsure of the other one's feelings was pretty funny. Smiling, she speaks reassuringly.

"Well, first of all, Lois loves you, honey. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure, but I know it: I see it every time you're here, she told me - "

"She what?"

"Woman to woman conversation, son: none of your business," and she smiles when he pouts at that.

Taking a step forward, she hooks her hand in his arm, and walks them towards the porch's stairs.

"I can't guarantee you that she'll say yes, Clark," she starts as they sit down. "But I do know this is a woman who stayed by your side everyday since she met you, who wanted you to live with her even though she had never take that step with anyone before, and who threw herself at a journalist who was calling Superman a fraud," and he chuckles. "She even listens to you talk about football, honey: trust me, _that's_ love."

He laughs, looking up, eyes lost somewhere in the ocean of stars in front of them.

"You didn't answer: how did Dad propose to you?," he asks quietly without looking away from the sky.

She chuckles at the memory. "Well, he didn't really think it through. One night, we were on our usual spot next to the lake, and he just turned to me and said, 'Martha, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. What do you say?'".

She smiles, head forty years away, and shrugs her shoulders. "And then he did."

"Weren't you scared?"

"Of what? Every doubt you can have about marriage, the hesitation in front of such a huge thing - that disappears when it's the right person. I loved him: that's all that mattered to me. Never regretted it."

Martha feels his hand covering her crossed arms, and her own comes to squeeze his fingers. They stay like this for a while, both fixing the stars, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm going to ask her, Mom," Clark eventually says, voice quiet. Smiling, she turns her head to meet his eyes.

He grins. "I'm going to ask Lois to marry me."


	26. Meeting Martha

_Okay, breathe. Just breathe._

Being the bold investigative journalist that she was, Lois Lane had seen it all. She'd been in active war zones, had interviewed dictators, had gone head to head against rotten country leaders. Hell, she even made one of them cry, once.

All those things looks like child play to her, though, compared to what she's about to face. Or rather, _who_ she's about to face.

She's brought back to reality when, with a small squeeze, Clark looks down at their joined hands and smiles, and she notices that's she's holding it so tight her junctures are turning white, and that her free hand is clutching his wrist, too. She feels herself redden a little.

"I've never done the ' _introducing the girlfriend'_ thing before, okay?," she says as an explanation. "And the last time I met your mom, I was questioning her about her son whose identity I wanted to reveal to the entire world, so I'm not sure this is a very good idea."

"Actually, the last time she saw you, you were giving us the plan to save the world from Zod," he says sweetly, and his thumb running on her skin in a soothing motion. "And if I remember correctly, you didn't reveal my alter ego to the world afterwards, so resentment isn't exactly what she feels towards you," and Lois smiles back, a little less nervous. Very little.

"Yeah, well, still - don't rejoice yourself too much: there's still plenty of things she may hate about me."

He chuckles at that, apparently not worried in the least, and drops a kiss on her temple.

"I doubt that. You'll be fine, I promise."

Before she has the time to add anything else, his mom gets out of the house, and Lois lets him go, heart beating way too fast for it to be normal as they embrace. Shit.

She figures it would be rude to run off into the nearest cornfield, though, and, trying to swallow down a panic she's not used to (she's usually the picture of confidence, goddammit, what's happening to her?), she tries her best not to die right there on the spot, and smile as the Kents both turn to look at her.

"Mom, I think you've met Lois," he says, a giant grin on his face that almost make all her anxiety go away.

Almost.

Martha smiles at her, though, a warm, reassuring smile, and just like that, the heavy weigh that's been resting on her chest is suddenly taken of.

"Welcome to our home, Lois."

* * *

As it turns out, things do go well – _"See?"_ he whispers to her as he walks behind her, dropping a small kiss on her cheek while she puts the table, his mom cooking something smelling like heaven in the kitchen.

Martha is nothing but nice and welcoming to her, delightening her with childhood stories of Clark and oh so delicious food (" _Just so you know, I'll_ never _be able to compete with that." "Yeah, I figured that out when you burnt the mac-and-cheese,"_ he gently teases, earning him a slap from her and a scolding from his mom. Lois _definitively_ likes her.)

She's smart, funny, kind, strong. It's not really a surprise, if you think about it: it can only have taken a super woman, to raise Superman.

She asks about Lois investigation's stories, and she tells her. It's nothing, compared to what it must have been raising a Kryptonian child, but she makes compliments about how brilliant and brave she is, and Lois feels herself blush. As they sit on the porch, Clark's arm around her, fingers running on the skin from her arm to her neck while Martha tells them how Jonathan fell on his backside at least fifteen times trying to bring his ship to the farm, Lois wonders why she was even worried about in the first place.

* * *

At one point, Clark has to go fix the Miller's car who, having heard he was in town, came to get him.

"Are you going to be okay?," he asks gently as she walks him to the door.

"Of course," she says with the smile, closing the screen door behind them. "Your mom is amazing – and I don't say that about a lot of people," she smirks as she draps both her arms around his neck, and gets on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Thanks for bringing me, Kent."

"Well, she's pretty into you, too," he grins, bringing his lips to hers again. "And thank you for coming. Now I have to go, because this is my Mom's porch, and we can't do that here," he eventually manages between small kisses, not sounding completely convinced nor convincing as he keeps goiing.

Chuckling, Lois presses even closer for a few seconds, then pushes away, a finger to his lips.

"Now off, Superman."

With a last peck and a smile, he heads to his neighbours' house, and she heads back inside.

"So, is our hero gone?," Martha looks up from her laudry when she comes back.

"Yeah – although in a less revealing outfit that he usually uses," and she laughs. Lois comes to stands next to her, and grabs a black shirt she starts to fold.

"I wanted to thank you, Lois."

"Oh, please, that's nothing," she waves her hand with a smile. "Least I could do."

"No, not for that," the older woman chuckles, and Lois looks at her, confused. "For Clark. For everything you do for him – without knowing it, given the look on your face," she teases, and Lois catches herself and closes her mouth.

With a gentle smile and without stopping her work, she continues. "Clark's never really had anyone before. With his abilities, children his age – and even their parents, really - always looked at him differently, here, and after...Don't get me wrong, he's a wonderful kid. The best," she smiles warmly, and Lois suddenly understands what they say about a mother's love just looking in Martha's eyes. "But after that, he was always afraid people would reject him, you know? That the world wasn't ready, as his father used to say."

Lois thinks she sees regrets and something else behind her eyes, too, but doesn't say anything. "So of course, he isolated himself. The fact that he was always moving didn't help, but – he was scared. He wasn't sure he could trust anyone, so he didn't, and he was alone. For thirty-three years, he was just - so alone. Which would be terrible for anybody, but for a boy as sensitive as him," and Lois' throat tightens up. She knew this, and yet, imagining him like that still made her heart ache.

Martha's eyes are shining, but then she looks up at her, a genuine smile on her face, and takes her hand.

"And then you came along. And I know I'm not supposed to say this, and he'd probably killed me if he knew," she chuckles, and Lois shyly smiles, too. "But you changed everything. You'll probably never realize how much, but you did – you do. I mean, I've never seen him smile so much before," she laughs.

Putting the pair of jeans she just folded away, she briefly squeezes her hand in hers, a gentle smile on her face. "So thank you for making my boy so happy," she says, sincere, and Lois doesn't know what to say.

She wants to tell her that in reality, he's the one that's accumplishing the impossible, that showed up and brought hope in the grey, cynical world she lived in, taking her by surprise and sweeping her off her feet when she had least expected it. She wants to tell her that he's the only one she's ever loved that much, always will be, and that in an embarassingly short amount of time, he had become the center of her universe.

She wants to tell him not to worry, because as long as he wants her, she'll be here.

Instead, she just smiles, nodding, and looking at Martha, she knows that she probably understands anyway.

"Well, you're very welcome. Now," she adds with fake seriousness, clearing her throat. "Do you think that gives me apple pie privileges for the rest of my life? Because that thing was a revelation."

Throwing her head back, Martha laughs, and Lois is happy to join her.


	27. Domestic

Their everyday life is usually pretty normal.

It sounds like a stupid thing to say, of course, considering she lives with the Man of Steel himself, but it actually really is: Superman is what Clark does, not who he is (although he is pretty super in a lot, _lot_ of ways, if you ask her), and in the end, they're really just a man and a woman living together.

One alien, one reckless reporter, but still just a man and a woman. And, as a consequence, when it comes down to their domestic life, they're just like any other couple.

They divide the chores: Clark immediately volunteers to cook every single day, and she throws a towel at him for the scared expression on his face at the idea of her cooking for him again. Of course, it's understandable, given than the one and only time she did, she had misread the recipe and ended up putting beef, mayonnaise and apples where she _really_ shouldn't have, and had overwooked the all thing, and - well, let's just say the fear he felt was justified. Still a bit hurtful, though.

They enjoy just staying in and watch TV after a long day. He has learnt to put his foot down on the program choices she makes, because apparently, Superman is too good for reality tv and rom coms – what a snob. She doesn't really mind, in the end, because a/ his choices are pretty good every single time and b/ she's much more interested in cuddling next to him anyway, his body warm against her and his hand subsconciously playing with her hair.

They each have a side of the bed, although more in theory than in practise, considering that, as Clark always takes pleasure reminding her, "You do sleep sprawled all over me, Lo." True. Who can blame her, though?

They have a morning routine, part of which is always ending up hurrying, because they're really good at messing it up at some point, and getting late. Most days, it's one of them having a hard time getting out of bed, or refusing to let the other one leave it. Others, it's getting distracted in the tube because they had the brilliant idea to get in together, or talking a little too much at breakfast, only to realize they have ten minutes left to get cleaned, dressed and ready to go. Which is why when they arrive hand in hand in front of the Planet, Lois often has to settle for an unsatisfyingly short kiss before they walk in, both heading for their day of work.

They occasionally fight over the most ridiculous things ( _"Why the hell would I say I have the keys if I didn't actually have the keys, Clark?!" "Well I don't know Lois, you tell me."_ ) They make up every time, though, and that part is pretty cool.

They lift each other up when the other had a bad day, something Lois has never known before, never even thought she needed before that blue eyed boy arrived. Now, she can't imagine her life without having Clark to get back to (or rather, with) every night. When he wants to cheer her up, he usually does it with footrubs, cuddles and Italian food, and if she didn't already know her man was the best there was before, those moments would make the trick.

So yes: all in all, Lois and Clark are a pretty regular couple.

Still, as she walks into their apartment that night, only to find him floating in a sitting lotus position as he changes the ceiling light bulb while concentrated on the game playing on the TV, she remembers that Clark Kent is a lot of things, but "regular" is just not one of them.

Smiling, she closes the door, heartbeat rising when he turns his head to look at her, and beams.

"Hey there, Smallville. Missed me?"


	28. Saturday

Stretching, Lois released a contented sigh as she left the bathroom, vaguely lingering on her movie options for her lazy Saturday morning in.

She stopped by the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, all the while looking at the sunlight bouncing off his tanned skin through her eyelashes. Walking to the dinner table, she dropped them next to his computer before drapping her arms around his neck from behind, lips gently kissing the spot right behind his ear, his jaw, his cheek.

"You smell good."

"Thanks. My boyfriend brought me handmade soap from Polynesia, that must be it," and she nuzzled him when he chuckled. "Are you almost done?"

"I think so. I should be finished by noon, if you want to do something this afternoon," he added distractely, already typing again.

"Great."

Hands on his nape, she kissed the top of his head. "I love you," she whispered in his hair.

Grabbing her mug, Lois headed for the TV, smiling when he mumbled "I love you" back at the screen of his computer as he frowned adorably in concentration.

She chose Indiana Jones.


	29. Morning surprise

"Hello?"

That's all it takes.

At the sound of the familiar voice echoing through the apartment, the little boy immediately sits up with a gasp, fully awake in a second. Grinning, Jonathan barely takes the time to shake the sleeping form next to him before he gets out of under the sheets. Or at least, tries to.

"Mom, wake up! Outch," he mumbles as he drops rather violently on the floor. Not that he cares, apparently: on his feet before she can even understand what's happening, he starts running backwards towards the door, more excited than she's ever seen him.

"He's here, come on!" he all but yells, and, head emerging from her pillow, Lois smiles at the sight. Except -

"Jon, the - "

 _Bang!_

" - door."

"AOW!"

"Oh, honey..."

Wincing, she straightens up as he growls, laying on the floor with a hand on the spot where his head just hit the door - hard. Before she can get up to go help him, said door opens, and Clark enters, a worried look on his face as his eyes immediately fly to the hurt soldier.

Which, again, is all it seems to take to make the pain disappear.

"Daddy!" He beams, and he looks so stupidly happy, laying there with his hand to his forehead and a grin so huge it probably hurts as well, that Lois can't help her own.

Exhaling softly when he sees that he's okay, Clark smiles at her before bending down to pick up his son.

"Hey there, champ," he chuckles, effortlessly lifting him up above his head before bringing him close for a hug, peperring him with kisses all over. "You okay?"

"I missed you," Jon mumbles against Clark's neck, his small arms tightening around it.

"I missed you, too," he answers back, and Lois smiles when his eyes lock with hers as he speaks. Whispering things she can't hear, Clark holds him for a few more seconds before backing away slightly, his fingers traveling on the little boy's forehead. "What happened there, buddy?"

"I think I got too excited. I didn't see the door," he shrugs, not at all embarrassed, and Lois just has to laugh. That kid was a circus all by himself.

Shaking his head, Clark drops a kiss to his hair. "So, what did you do while I was gone?"

"Well, I went to the zoo with uncle Barry, and we saw the same pandas we saw last time with Mom!"

"Really?"

"Yes! And then we went to get ice cream, and we all had dinner together because Mom had to work with aunt Diana and uncle Bruce. And then at school, I made something for you," he exclaims, arms raising in the air with excitment.

"You did?" Clark's eyes widen as he plays along. "Wow, I'm just the luckiest dad in the world, aren't I," and Jon chuckles in delight. "Why don't you go get my present, and then I'll go get yours?"

"You got me a present?"

"Mhm. But you first," he bargains, pretending to throw him before gently putting him down. The boy goes off like a rocket.

Chuckling at the loud "Yay!" running down the hallway, it's Lois' turn to grin when Clark finally turns around, and walks towards her.

"You know, I think our kid might be hyperactive," he only half jokes as he kicks off his shoes and comes to carefully lay above her, both forearms framing her head, his face wonderfully close. "Hi."

"Hey," she whispers, arms snaking around his neck as he kisses her.

It may have been a while since their paths crossed, but eight years and one kid down the road, and that man still manages to make her feel warm all over.

His lips eventually move to her chin, her jaw before he burries his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling a muffled _'I missed you_ ' against her skin. Smiling, she digs her fingers into his hair and gently kisses it, wrapping her limbs around him.

"I missed you too, baby," she whispers, her lips now grazing his ear. "How did it go in Beijing?"

"As well as it could go given the situation, I guess."

He drops on his side and brings her with him, leaving them face to face. "I think I covered all there was to report, but interviewing the survivors was pretty hard," he says, obviously still affected. Not that it surprises her: it was a pretty messy thing to see for everyone, including - and especially - Clark and Superman. "How about you? Did little Kent give you any trouble?," he nuzzles her before she has the time to comfort him, his arms tight around her waist.

"No, he was adorable. I think he even toned it down a little, actually. He did cry himself to sleep because you weren't here one night, though, which was pretty heartbreaking."

"He did?," and she can see his own heart aching, the poor thing. "Why didn't you Skype me?"

"Superman was helping pulling the victims of the second earthquake out, sweetie," she gently cups his cheek to make him feel better, smiling at how adorable he looks. "He's five and that's the first time you've been away for so long - that's normal. He's okay now."

"I got it, Dad!" Jon appears on cue, and Clark turns on his back just in time to catch him as he confidently throws himself on his father's stomach in a jump that would have cut anyone else's breath.

Beaming, he lays, back to Clark's chest, and starts proudly explaining every detail of his drawing. Arms around his little stomach, Clark smiles at her when she whispers a small ' _See?'_ in his ear, and drops a kiss to the top of Jon's head, focusing back on what he's saying.

Enjoying the sight of the two of them for a few more seconds, Lois then draps her hand around his huge bicep, curls up against her men, and closes her eyes again.


	30. Midnight visitor

Eyes still half closed, blanket still around him, he blindly walked towards the entrance, mumbling a vague "Icomin'."

When he opened his door, it took him a minute to even recognize his late visitor, which, by the small smile on her face, seemed to amuse her.

"Hey, sleepy head. You look cute."

"I try," he managed, voice hoarse, and her expression turned concerned.

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I know you've been really busy in Australia today - "

"It's fine," he smiled – adorable, so adorable. He opened his arms for her, and Lois walked straight into them as he closed the door behind her and wrapped her up close to him in his tangled sheets. "You smell good."

"Thanks," she mumbled in his neck, lips grazing his skin. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Do you really need to ask?," and the pit of her stomach warmed even more. He backed up a little then, watching her closely for a moment. "Are you okay, though?"

She looked up, chin on his chest, and smiled again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just missed you."

Clark grinned back through his haze.


	31. Fool

Dragging herself in, Lois released a groan of relief as she finally made it into their appartment. Kicking of her heels, she dropped her bag somewhere near them and headed towards the living room, her long day already forgotten at the prospect of the nice meal and handsome boyfriend ahead.

"Clark?," she called, smiling as he got up from the sofa and turned to look at her.

Her smile didn't last long, though.

"What is it?," she asked, head already reeling with the worse scenarios. He looked so sad, so distressed that both panic and concern for him raised in her chest, and she instinctively moved to get closer.

"I'm sorry," he started, an anguish he couldn't cover written all over his face, avoiding her gaze. "I know you probably don't want to see me, but I – I just had to know."

She stopped a few centimers away from him, confused. _Wait...what?_

"What?"

"I respect your decision. It's just – I don't understand." She gaped at him, completely lost. He looked like he was going to continue his incomprehensible speech, but then he looked up at her, so much despair behind his eyes it made her heart ache. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry, Lois. But if you let me, I want to fix it, because - "

"Clark, stop," she raised her hand, eyes fixed on his. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This time, it was his turn to look confused.

"Your text, this afternoon - I read it," he answered, eyebrows furrowing.

"My - "

And just like that, everything became clear. He couldn't _possibly_ be serious right now.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"What?"

"Clark, that was a joke. _Obviously._ "

The look on his face was so funny, Lois couldn't help the smile that was threatening to grow on her face as she relaxed. "It's April Fools' Day!"

Finally understanding, he put his hands on his face and groaned, collapsing on the couch behind him.

"For God sake, Lo," he mumbled, and she chuckled, because wow.

"Did you really think I meant that?", she managed, full on laughing now, because the thought was so idiotic, so preposterous, she sincerely never though he would not get that she was being sarcastic.

But given the way he laid against the cushions, clearly still shaken, he really didn't.

Shaking her head at him, Lois moved to sit on his lap, legs both sides of his hips as she took his hands away from his pretty face.

"I can't believe you did that to me," he said in a breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Smiling, Lois ran her fingers on his cheeks, dropping kisses all over his face to make amend.

"I'm sorry, baby," she apologized against his skin. "I really thought you'd get that it was a joke."

"Yeah, well, I didn't," he pouted, but his arms snaked around her body, holding her firmly against him. Almost possesively, she noted. _My poor little farmboy_.

With a last kiss to his jaw, she tugged at his dark hair so he would look at her. There was still a little resentment there, which was oh so unusual for him, and she realized just how much that must have touched him.

Then again, had their situations been reversed, she would _not_ feel so great, either.

Drapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, long and tender, her lips curving up when he started kissing back, and she finally felt his entire body relax. After a while, she pulled away, her fingers gently playing with the end of his hair the way he liked.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she said again against his lips. "But in my defense, I thought you'd know I can't live without you, by now."

He smiled at that, almost shy, and as she looked at him, at the face she loved so much she sometimes thought her heart could burst, she wondered how he possibly could have believed that she'd want to ever leave him.

"Then please, don't pull anything like that again. You almost gave me a panic attack, Lo," he reprimanded, but there was humor in his tone now. Thank God.

Nodding, she pecked him on the lips, cuddling even closer.

"I promise. But I will make fun of you for buying the most stupid crap – there's no escaping that," and he chuckled, tickling her to punish her. Leaning in, Clark gently cupped her face and kissed her again - effectively making her hearbeat skyrocket and her body instantly warm up once more, of course.

Damn, that man.

Pulling away, he burried his face in her neck, breathing her in. Softly pressing her lips against his hair, she then made him look up at her again, fingers curled on the front of his shirt to keep him in place.

"But just so we're clear, I love you, okay? More than anything," she added in a whisper she knew he heard. Smiling, he nodded, and whispered how much he loved her, too.

(It occured to her that they really did turn into one of those sickening couple in love _. Ugh._ )

That night, Lois had to come up with new and inventive ways to apologize in order to make sure she was really forgiven, but she was okay with that.


	32. Mario Kart

"Superman wears a suit."

"And Batman doesn't?"

"It's not a tight suit."

"Oh, really? And what is it, then?"

"I think Dad's right," he nods, eyes still focused on the game as he sits crossed leg on the floor against his father's chest, watching with interest. "It is a tight suit."

Annoyed, Bruce exhales as he makes his Luigi character speed up with a violent with push to his gamepad.

"At least it isn't blue and red."

"It's better than black. Batman's suit is a little sad, I think," and Clark chuckles.

"Exactly," he smirks, briefly taking his eyes off the race to send a cocky look towards Bruce, who just groans in return.

"I don't know why I'm even arguing: you raised that kid to love Superman."

"No he didn't: I just think Superman is cooler than the Bat, that's all."

"See? Just cooler, Bruce." If look could kill, Clark wouldn't have make it.

"Come on, Jon," the bilionnaire tries to reason, momentarily forgetting about the game to look at the blue-eyed little boy. "Batman has the Batmobile. You _love_ the Batmobile!"

"Yes, but Superman can fly."

"Batman can fight."

"So can Superman. And he has laser eyes! Plus, Superman looks nice. Batman's always pouting."

Clark burst out laughing at that, throwing back his head against the sofa he's leaning on, and Bruce turns an entirely new shade of red.

"Okay, you know what? I'm late for my meeting at the Wayne tower, anyway: I'm out of here," Bruce mumbles, hurt in his pride, and Clark just laughs harder as poor Jon looks at them with wide eyes, not understanding what's happening.

"What?" he asks innocently, a little panicked when Bruce gets up from and turns to leave. "Uncle Bruce, wait!" he yells, pushing off Clark's lap to chase the man and try to hold him back. "Don't go! I love _you_ : I just think Batman is a little boring, that's all!"

Clark almost chokes on laughter.

Smiling, Lois shakes her head. _Boys._


	33. Football field

"Yeah, it's okay, Martha - I found him."

Eyes still fixed on him, she nods at the relieved words of gratitude at the other end of the line. "Of course. See you back at the farm."

As she hangs up, Lois stops and takes a second to just stare at him. He just looks so...lost.

Then again, he probably is.

Heart aching at the sight of him, she tightens her jacket around her and walks to join him, arms around her chest to protect herself from the cold.

"Hey," he whispers as she joins him.

"Hey yourself." Smiling gently at him, she drops a kiss on his nose as he looks up at her.

He tries to smile back, and she hates that it doesn't reach his eyes.

"How did you find me?," he asks, not a note of accusation in his voice. Just curiosity.

"Well, first of all, we're in Smallville, so there's only so many places to look in. Second, I'm Lois Lane."

She's proud of herself when he chuckles a little at that. Of course, she usually knows how to make him smile: tonight, though, it's a victory. Even a bigger one, when he keeps smiling for a few seconds as he teases her.

"And?"

"And that's it."

She makes an exaggerated sigh at his raised eyebrows, eyes rolling and hands going up in a dramatic motion before she settles on his knees, legs hanging off his right one and arms encircling his neck. His arms come to snake around her body, and she cuddles close as his familiar warmth envelop her.

As it turns out, dating Superman is very handy, come the cold temperatures.

" _And_ , you told me your favorite memories with your dad were when he gave you football lessons. So, I asked your mom where that was, and here I am. Still shows excellent reporter skills, though."

"It does," he concedes. His eyes are so, so sad, though, it – sucks.

It just sucks, and all she wants to do is make him feel better, make all his pain disappear because he doesn't deserve this. The world may think Superman is untouchable, but she knows better than anyone that he's probably the most sensitive and vulnerable person there is. She's seen him hurt more times than she's like, but tonight – tonight is just awful.

His mother had warned her: it had been fifteen years since that terrible day now, and yet every year, ont that day - and sometimes, on some others, too - it was the same. Like he was reliving it all over again, which he probably was.

Lois has never felt more helpless than in this moment.

A hand on his face, she kisses his cheek once, twice, lingering a little as she holds him close.

"Do you want to talk about it?", she asks softly when she pulls away, knowing full well how delicate the subject is. She knows full well how much he misses him, how much he needs him, how much he blames himself for what happened.

"Not really," and, following his lead, she just sits with him, fingers slowly traveling through his thick dark curls.

She doesn't know how long they stay here, her chin gently propped up on his head, but after a while, he speaks again. "The last thing I told him was that he was not my dad," he says simply, voice even.

"I know", she whispers softly, hands gently running on his jaw, the memory of their first conversation, back in Smallville cemetery, still fresh in her mind. "And he knew you didn't mean it."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything, simply holding her closer as he looks at the empty football field, mind probably twenty years away. He looks at her, eventually, and even after that much time, her stupid betraying heart skips a bit.

"He would have really liked you, you know," and she smiles.

"Yeah? Your mom told me the same thing. She said that I would have 'turned his head around in seconds'," and Clark chuckles at that.

"You would have - the whole fearless, impossible to impressed thing."

"Oh come on, I'm not that blase," and he raises an eyebrow at her. "Well, I was impressed when I met you: I never met anyone who made lasagna that good before," and he chuckles again.

Smiling, she kisses him again, and gently whispers against his skin. "Your father would have been very proud of you, Superman."


	34. Honey you're so pretty

"You're doing it again."

She smirked, biting her lip as she played innocent.

"What?"

"Watching me sleep. It's getting creepy, you know."

"Well, can you blame me?"

Laying on his side, head between the pillows with the sheets up to his waist, Clark peaked an eye open only to roll it at her, and her smile only got bigger. "I'm only human, honey: I stare at the face of perfection."

"Right."

"I mean it," she insisted, leaving her cup of coffee on the dresser to go join him on her bed. "From a totally objective point of view, you're physically flawless, Kent: it's _crazy_."

"And being my girlfriend, you're totally objective, of course," he countered, irony clear on his tone as he fully dropped on his back to let her stradle him, hands settling on her thighs.

"Sorry to bring it to you, but on that point, I definitively am. You do notice the way women look at you, right?"

"They look at Superman. It's the whole – hero thing, nothing more." She snorted.

"Oh, you innocent baby. Do me a favor: just pay attention to the looks people give you at the office on Monday. Cat, Jeremy, Sarah and Bridget are among your most fervent admirers," she chuckled as he shook his head, his cheeks getting slightly red at her words.

Cute.

"You're dellusional."

"Not that I blame them," she continued anyway, glad to make shy, modest Clark Kent blush. Plus, he had to know, because come on. "I mean, those are great," she said, hands settling on his perfectly sculpted abs, eyes opening wide to make him laugh. "And don't even ge me started on _that_ area," she moves to his naked chest.

One of the best things in her life, really. "I do think the whole thing is going to get you caught, though: no human has ever had a body like that."

"What's good is you're not exagerrating at all," he rose his eyebrows at her, but there was amusement in his voice.

"That's just the truth, Clark. No really, I insist: if you want to keep your identity a secret, I must be the only one to see you without clothes," she nodded in fake seriousness, butterflies in her stomach going wild as she heard and felt him laugh a that.

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely. And you should probably keep those just around me to," she winced, pulling on his arms so he would sit up and put his – huge and so amazing - arms around her body. He happily obliged. "We don't want to take any chances."

"Of course we don't," he agreed, tilting his face up towards her, and Lois couldn't resist the urge to drop a small kiss on his lips.

"That's my favorite part, though," she admitted, fingers gently running on his nose, his cheek, his chin. Again, he blushed, and Lois thanked whatever God or fate let her be the one to cuddle with that unfairly and ridiculously perfect thing.

It was one thing to be sculpted like a God. But that face - those _eyes_? Come on.

"So you're basically saying that you're with me only for my looks," he frowned at her, and she sighed heavingly.

"I'm afraid so, Smallville," she played along, tightening her arms around his neck as she nodded. "I'm terribly shallow."

"That's so disappointing of you, Lo."

"Terrible. Now please help me take my blouse off, honey."

He smiled.


	35. Family talk

Shaking her head, she snorted, amused. He frowned, face between confused and upset, and she smiled.

Cute.

"What? It's true."

"That's nice, honey, but I'm pretty sure every person that ever saw me in the morning or in any other occasion without make up can attest you're wrong," she raised her eyebrow, looking at him over her shoulder as she got out. Cutting out the engine, Clark got out as well.

"You look beautiful in the morning - _and_ without make up," he simply responded, as if it went without saying. "Way more than that actress you were just talking about, by the way," and she chuckled at him over the car's roof.

"Right. I'm sure the world would totally agree with you on that one."

"I don't care what the world thinks," he shrugged as he came to face her. "Besides, I have proof."

Opening the back door next to them, he smirked before leaning inside. "Sweetie, who's the prettiest lady in the whole world?" he asked, and Lois bit down her grin as he unlocked the belts then straightened up, making sure to protect Jon's head as he carefully got him out of his seat.

"Mommy!" the boy exclaimed happily without a moment's hesitation, his little eyes laughing. She shook her head, but Lois was smiling, and very aware of the delighted warmth rush in her belly and rising to her cheeks.

"He's biased."

"He's right." Clark said, stepping closer to her and crowding her back against the side of the car.

"I _am_ right, Mommy!"

"See? He's right."

"You're _both_ biased," Lois objected softly, fingers threading in their son's dark curls.

"I don't know that word, but we're right," Jon repeated confidently – right before he looked up and remembered where he was, and his interest in their shenanigans completely disappeared. "Can we go see Grandma now?"

Rolling her eyes at a very proud of himself Clark, she grabbed his hand, and headed towards the farm.

"Yes, let's go see Grandma, kitten."


	36. A night out

"Thank you," he nods, raising his glass to hers as the waiter leaves them, politely nodding back.

Taking an appreciative sip, he then looks back at her. "So: how is life going?"

"Good," she answers neutrally. "I just finished my article about Senator Johnson less than glorious past, so that's at least one bastard exposed."

"I look forward to reading it." A pause. "And how are things at home?"

Frowning, she looks up at him.

"What do you mean, 'at home'?"

"I mean your personal life, Lois." For a moment, they just stare at each other, her suspicion raising with each passing second.

He never aks her about her personal life.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Is it so surprising that a father would ask something like this to his daughter?", he simply answers, not missing a beat. She doesn't, either.

"It is when it's you."

"Well, then consider me a changed man who wants to be more involved in and aware of his children lives," and she snorts. He doesn't even blink.

(Then again, he _is_ made of the same stuff she is.)

"So?"

"So everything is going perfectly well at home as well, thank you. I've just changed a bulb in the living room and the place looks brighter than ever - a true revelation. I feel like my entire existence has just been enhanced."

"Glad to hear it. Any other changes, lately?"

"You mean apart from having to deal with your non-existent subtility?", she answers behind her glass, eyes not wavering. "None, no."

"I'm simply wondering whether there's been new – _additions_ to your life."

Repressing an annoyed sigh, Lois purses her lips.

"No: you just want to know if Lucy's latest gossips are true." The corner of his mouth goes up.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

The waiter comes back with their plates and, anger raising in her chest, for some reason, Lois takes a breath to smile at the young man in thanks before setting her napkin on her lap, eyes not meeting her father's similar ones yet.

She knows it doesn't make much sense, but she's furious.

"Don't be mad at your sister: getting your nose in other people's business is a passion you've always shared. You've even made a career out of it, for God sake."

"I'm happy to see that you still see me as a professionnal gossiper, Dad. And next time you see her, do thank her for me: it really feels amazing to know she still goes running to you with details about my personal life whenever she gets hold of it."

"Oh please, Lois – stop being such a drama queen," he reprimands, raising his eyebrows at her as he cuts his steak. She glares, and it almost seems to amuse him.

Probably does. "Whether you like it or not, I'm your father, and I'd like to know who you're seeing. Especially when it sound so serious."

"The surprise in your voice flatters me."

"Long terms relationships aren't usually your thing."

"And how would you know what my thing is?", she points out cooly, taking it out on her own steak. Which leaves him completely unphased, of course.

"So: Clark Kent, huh?" and she chuckles, no trace of humor in it.

"Have you pulled out his records yet, General?"

"Not yet, no. And I probably won't have to if you simply tell me about him." Arms either side of his plate, he stops and looks at her, expectant, and she knows he won't let it go.

Damn the Lane stubornness.

" _Yes_ , his name is Clark Kent. As you probably already know, he's from Kansas, and he works with me at the Daily Planet. Blue eyes, nice smile, blushes easy and likes coffee. Satisified?" Chuckling, he returns to his food.

"Well, he certainly must be quite something."

"What?"

"We both know you never went for anything less than the best, Lois. And for you to be so defensive - "

"I'm not on the defensive," she protest with a frown, on what she annoyingly realizes to be a defensive tone. Shit.

"Right. Are his parents still in Kansas?"

"Yes," she sighs, giving up at she starts eating as well. "He lost his father, but his mother still lives there."

"Has he been in Metropolis for long?"

"No."

"Is he a good man?"

"Yes."

"Does he treat you well?"

"Better than I deserve. Are we done?"

"Has he been married yet?"

"No."

"Does he like football?," and she rolls her eyes. _Men._

"Yes."

"Can he cook?"

She frowns.

"Yes. How is that relevant?"

"Well, giving your legendary cooking skills, it would be nice if your other half is able to at least put together a meal - and keep you alive." He pauses, then shrugs slightly. "Maybe teaches you how to not set the kitchen on fire while attempting to cook an omelet, too," he deadpans, serious as he keeps eating.

She can see the ghost of a mocking smirk as he briefly looks up at her, though, and, hiding her own smile – and swearing to herself to _never_ let Clark find out about that particular memory - Lois gets back to her steak.


	37. Struggle

She loved him.

She really, really did. More than she had ever loved anyone, more than she ever thought possible and all that - truly. She wouldn't trade the life she shared with him for anything, was sick at the mere idea of something coming to change that, and frankly, confused as to what her life would be hadn't she been lucky enough to find herself on that military station back in Canada.

Four months, two weeks and eight days in, Lois Lane found herself utterly and completely in love with Clark Kent, and as she did, became everything she hated about a/ foolish women in love and b/ stupid couples in love. How ironic.

She loved the way he smelled. She caught herself smiling like a damn fool whenever his name popped up on her phone. She hated the nights she had to fall asleep without him as much as the mornings she had to wake up to an empty bed. She became the _cuddly type_ , for God's sake.

She loved everything about him, which in itself made her want to roll her eyes at herself _(really, Lois?_ ). But the stupid thing was, she actually loved his flaws too, somehow.

(And really, what the hell was up with that?

She wasn't supposed to smile at the annoying things he did and love him all the more for it: she was supposed to, _duh_ , be annoyed by them.

But apparently, no. The way he considered football like a religion, his flannel shirts, his sacred and annoyingly long process for every cup of coffee he made - she freaking loved everything. God.)

She did, and she had accepted that. Still, right now, Lois would really, _really_ like to figure out how to get the hell out of under there.

Sighing, she took a deep breath, then tried for the hundredth time that morning to lift his goddamn left arm off of her. Once again, she did not succeed.

"Oh, come on," she hissed through her teeth (which, unsurprisingly, didn't help much, either). Giving everything she had, she pushed and pushed and -

Nothing. He didn't move an inch. God knew she didn't mind having him and his stupid, unfair and perfect body sprawled all over her like that - that was actually of perks of dating a Kryptonian God - but still...the man was impossible to move.

Reconsidering her approach, Lois took a couple of seconds to regain her breath, then tried to wiggle out her way out instead. Taking every precaution not to wake him in the process (although it wasn't exactly necessary, given that he slept pretty much like a log), Lois moved to slip from under him, but it was no use: with both his arms either sides of her head, his own head on her left shoulder and, more problematic, his chest against her own, she was trapped.

No escape there. _Shit_.

Peeking at the clock on the bed table, Lois saw that it had been fifteen minutes now, and, frustration taking over, she vigorously try to turn, to push, to slide, anything, _anything_ to escape and reach her morning coffee -

Until she felt a smile grow against her skin, and a chuckle that wasn't hers trough her body.

Oh, the _asshole_.

"You did _not_ just do that," Lois threatened, although a smile was spreading on her face.

"Me? I didn't do anything," he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep as he played innocent. Rolling her eyes, Lois shook her head on her pillow, amused despite herself.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" and, smiling, Clark kissed his way from her neck to her cheek until she could finally see him.

The grin on his barely waken face and tousled, curly black hair made it hard to focus and restrain her own.

"Were you trying to get up? I'm sorry, I didn't get that," he had the audacity to beam. Rolling her eyes for good measure, Lois draped her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, you laugh know, but next time, I won't be so delicate, faker."

"I'm not sure 'delicate' is the right word, though: it felt more awkward and desperate, from were I was standing," he smirked, blue eyes sparkling in light mockery.

"You do know next to what part of your anatomy my knee is right now, right?" and, chuckling at her threat, he bent down to kiss her.

Another thing Superman was good at, as it turned out.

"You're still a jerk," she managed after a moment, somehow finding the strength to protest despite her breathlessness and the way she was (once again) turning to putty under his hands and kisses.

Smiling, Clark leant down again. "Let me make it up to you, then."


	38. To new traditions

"What do you mean, nothing?"

Looking away from her computer to spare him a glance, she shrugs.

"Just that: nothing."

Confused, he frowns.

"You can't do nothing on Christmas, Lo." She barely stops her chuckle as she turns her attention back to her research.

"Well, I've been doing it for 15 years now, and so far, I'm fine."

"What?" The horror in his tone is almost comical.

She looks back up at him, the pure shock on his face adorable. "You can't be serious."

"I am." Surprise and indignation cross his features, and she gives him a soft smile as she rolls her eyes. "It's not a big deal, Clark."

By the look of it, _he_ certainly seems to think that it is. His eyes soften, then, and she can see the compassion growing in them. She never really talked to him about that, and he never pushed - but today, he ventures to ask.

"So you and your family really don't get along that well?"

"No. Not really, I guess. It's not even that, it's just - " For a second, she hesitates, not sure of her words. "Christmas used to be a big thing for us when Mom was still alive," she eventually says. "She'd spent all day cooking, made us all give a hand. My sister was great at it, but I was already a bad cook even then, so my job was limited to peeling the potatoes - but I took it very seriously." She smiles at the memory, and he smiles with her.

She doesn't let herself think about her mother much - she forgot how good it feels. "We had to wear Santa's hats and everything," she chuckles. "And then -"

Coming back to reality, Lois shakes her head slightly, and shrugs again.

"The year she died, my father didn't feel like celebrating it. He found an excuse the year after that as well, and then I was off to college and it was that, I guess. But it would have been the same, anyway: I was closer to my mom, my dad and I never - saw things the same way. Didn't really understand each other, I guess. And my sister always took his side, so."

Clearly he doesn't like what he's hearing, which is oh so Clark, and so she smiles to reassure him.

"It's fine now - I promise. And hey, I can help you find a present for your mom, if you want."

Nodding, he smiles back, and, pushing from the counter, heads to her kitchen to drop off his mug.

"It would be great, thanks. I'm sure she'll be very grateful when you give it to her for us."

Lois frowns, and, as he emerges in the living room again, Clark grabs his jacket, and smirks. "You're coming to Smallville with me this year."

"What? Clark, no, I'm not going to intrude like that - " she starts, cut by his quick peck on the lips.

"No, you're not going to intrude - just join." Half a protest still on her lips, Lois watches, dumbfounded, as he grabs his bag, and heads for the door.

"Clark, I barely know your mother, I can't just - "

"Yes, you can just. Anyway, I have to go interview that woman for my article, but I should be able to make diner. See you tonight."

And, with a last grin, he's gone.

That Christmas, Martha adjusts a bright red Santa hat on her head, smiling at her as she tenderly cups her cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Lois."

With a wink, she goes back to help Clark in their Kansas kitchen.


	39. Three days

Knees to her chest and back to the metal bars of his small balcony as she sits on the little bench he's put there, Lois keeps herself from playing with her hands again.

Nerves. Funny thing for her, really. She has never been the type of person who let them get the better of her, in any situation. Who looks back, who bothers to try and think too much about the consequences of every single one of her actions when it's too late (which, as Perry loves to point out, can sometimes be a " _damn pain in the ass_ "). It wasn't that she was reckless and unresponsable about it, or at least not when she knew she couldn't – professionaly, she had ethics she stuck to.

But in every relationship she'd ever been in, she had always spoken her mind and never apoloized for it, even when she knew her behavior wasn't justified, even when she knew she was wrong, even when she knew she wasn't being fair. An ego thing, probably. Deep down, she knew it wasn't exactly healthy behaviour, but after all, if they weren't happy about it, they were more than welcome to leave - she could manage just fine, thank you very much.

Now, though, things were different.

Before she can replay her stupid attitude in her head again, Lois hears his keys turning in the lock, and, straitening up slighty, feels her heart racing with a mix of apprehension, fear and dread. It occurs to her that he can probably hear that, but her current state at least has the benefit of her not caring about that.

Five seconds later, Clark is in front of her, brown leather jacket and nerdy glasses on.

Technically, she saw him yesterday when he left from work for the weekend, but as their eyes meet, she feels a pang of longing and missing him that hasn't left her ever since they last spoke - which would be three days today.

Another fun and new set of pleasant emotions for her.

He speaks first. "Hi," is all he says, but that simple word leaves her both relieved and even more stressed out. Relieved, because at least he's talking to her – not that it's Clark's type to just ignore her, really. Stressed out, because it's her time to talk now, and she's not exactly sure what to say.

 _Oh, for God's sake, Lois_.

Cursing herself for being so melodramatic and franckly, ridiculous, she answers.

"Hey." She hates the fact that her voice comes out higher than she expected.

"Lois Lane, awake before ten on a Saturday," he marvels as he comes to sit in front of her, legs either side of the bench. "Miracles do happen, after all." His lips quirk up, slightly mocking, and she realizes he's joking. Smiling. A small, gentle smile – a Clark's smile. She's missed that, too.

She did. She missed waking up to his sleepy baby blues and tousled hair, stealing a last kiss before walking in the Planet's building, looking behind her to see him look up at her when he feels her gaze. She missed their daily lunch where they could bounce ideas off each other, hated pretending that she didn't want to grab his hand once they were out of the building at the end of the day and head at her place.

She really, really hated not talking to him, not looking at him as much as she wanted too, not touching him. Hence, her making amends any possible way she could.

"And I got you breakfast - so yeah, I think we can mark that day. I didn't make it, though – it's safe to eat it." He chuckles.

"Good to know. Not even _I_ would have survived that."

She rolls her eyes, a little hurt in her pride despite how valid is statement probably is. "Ahah, very funny. Where did you get such a sharp sense of humor?," she throws back before even thinking and, despite her slight bitterness, she smiles at the sight and sound of him laughing.

A small silence settles as their chuckles die, and after a moment, she speaks.

"I'm sorry," she quietly says, uncertain as she holds his gaze.

"I know. Me too," and she frowns, apprehension momentarily forgotten.

"Why would you be sorry?"

"Well, it takes two persons to get into a fight, doesn't it?" She snorts.

"Yeah, but I think we can both agree that in that particular situation, _I_ was the bitch."

This time, it's his time to frown, in both disagreement and disapproval.

"You weren't - that."

"And you're too nice."

"I'm not."

Lois can't help her smile. "You're sweet." A slight apprehension still rising in her chest, she tries to sound as casual as she can. She's painfully aware of how it comes out anything but.

"Downhill yet?"

He looks at her for a few seconds, then – an awfully long few seconds – but he's smiling, that special way he often is when he's looking at her, that way that she knows leaves her, charismatic and independant Lois Lane, blushing.

Slightly shaking his head, Clark extends his hand between them, resting it on her bended knees. She immediately reaches for it with both of hers, and the familiar warmth of his skin runs through her whole body as he pulls her to his chest.

She settles her legs around his waist as he snakes his arms around her and, both hands framing his perfectly shaped face before sliding down to his neck, Lois smiles back when he tightens his hold on her. She really did miss him, damn it.

"Not yet, no," he says – promises.

"I'm sorry I suck at this," she mumbles in apology, their faces close. She feels as much as hears his amused chuckle, easing off the few insecurities she had left.

"Well, I hear couples do disagree once in a while. You don't suck at anything," he reassures her.

His brow suddenly furrows in seriousness, though. "Except at cooking, of course. But franckly, if you want to make it up to me, you can just take me out, so it's okay," he shrugs, clearly making fun of her. The jerk.

Chuckling as he smirks, Lois makes a mental note to make a reservation at his favorite Italian down on fifth, gives him a half-heartened little smack on the shoulder for good mesure, and grabs his collar to close the small distance left between them.

"Shut up, Smallville."


	40. Making sure

On. Off. On – Yeah, there would be something there. Sure, they were big, but you couldn't take anything from those eyes. Although...

Off. On.

The fact that it hide his eyebrows and took up a good part of his upper face did make things difficult. Off.

No, that would be obvious. Ish.

On. Off. On.

No -

"Can I help you, Lo?" he asks, eyes not leaving the TV.

"Nah, it's okay," she says distractively, cocking her head to the side on his lap as she puts the glasses back on him again. "Just trying to figure out if the glasses would have fooled me, if we hadn't met before."

"And?"

"Still not sure, actually. Wait - "

She puts them on again, and he glances down to see her focused, all-in Lane expression on. Smiling, Clark focuses back on his game.


	41. Twenty-first century

'So: let's see if that Kansas boy texts."

 _'Would that be so hard to believe?'_

'Kinda. I didn't really picture you as the technology type of guy.'

 _'I'm from Kansas, Lois - not from the 18th century.'_

'Isn't it the same thing?'

 _'Low blow, miss Lane. I'm hurt.'_

'Well, I wouldn't want to make a bad first impression on the new stringer. Do you drink beer, in Kansas?'

 _'Almost exclusively.'_

'Then I guess I'll be meeting you up tomorrow after work, Smallville.'

 _'I can't wait.'_

* * *

'Just landed. If I don't come back, it's safe to say you'll have the heat to blame: I'm melting."

 _'Sorry about that. But I'm pretty sure you'll have forgotten about it in ten minutes. Is your source still okay?'_

'Yeah, I'm on my way to meet him right now.'

 _'Okay – be careful."_

'Always, Smallville.'

* * *

'Is that me, or does Lombard have something in his teeth?'

 _'Focus, Lois. You'd kill him if he texted while you were doing a presentation.'_

'Yeah, because I will notice, which he clearly doesn't. And I mean come on: how can I focus with that thing.'

 _'Lois.'_

'It's HUGE.'

 _'And here I thought you were a serious, model reporter.'_

'Oh, please: I can see you smile, you know.'

 _'I'm not.'_

'You totally are. And you're also doing a bad job at trying to contain your laughter, by the way.'

 _'I'm turning my phone off now.'_

'You're no fun.'

* * *

 _'Lunch with me today?'_

'Count me in, Smallville.'

 _'Perfect. I'm very flaterred to see how excited that makes you.'_

'Don't flatter yourself too much, big boy.'

 _'You're still grinning.'_

'Shut up.'

* * *

'Hey.'

 _'Hi.'_

'Did I wake you?'

 _'No, it's fine. Can't sleep?'_

'Nope. But hey, at least I learnt that this "One minute to fall sleep" method everyone's talking about doesn't work. At ALL.'

 _'Well, we can try the "Flying over Metropolis" method. Although you should know that I haven't tested it with anyone yet.'_

'Interesting. You know what? I'll take my chances. Are you coming to pick me up?'

 _'Look outside your window.'_

* * *

'I think my neighbour is gonna ask you to marry her.'

 _'Interesting. Which one?'_

'Mrs Jerrod. She just talked to me for fifteen minutes about "that terribly handsome young man who's here all the time. Thank God!" It's safe to say that if you're looking for a charming eighty year-old new girlfriend, you're covered.'

 _'I'm flattered. I think I'm going to stuck with the one I already have, though.'_

'Are you sure about that? You could learn a lot about what it was like living the Cold war, you know.'

 _'As tempting as it is, yes, I'm sure – a hundred percent.'_

* * *

'I love you.'

 _'I love you.'_

* * *

'Can't believe I just did that.'

 _'Sorry again – I really would have gone myself if I could. You're the best.'_

'Yeah well, you owe me one. And never again, Smallville.'

 _'I promise that's the last time I expose you to such a trauma. But you have to admit, it wasn't that bad.'_

'I will never admit to such a thing.'

 _'You liked it.'_

'I didn't.'

 _'You did.'_

'Whatever: never again will I be caught in the freaking farmer market at 8 on a Sunday morning. EVER.'

 _'Not even for me?'_

'Shut up and hurry back here. You hipster.'

* * *

 _'My mother is mad because I didn't bring you.'_

'I'm sorry. You did tell her I would have come if I could, right?'

 _'I did. She pouted anyway.'_

'Tell her I'll be there next month with the cupcakes she likes to make it up to her.'

 _'Oh, she's not mad at you – she's mad at me.'_

'Martha Kent is officially my favorite person.'

 _'Thanks. Between you two, I'm really feeling the love, this week end.'_

'I guess I'll have to make it up to you as well when you come back, then.'

* * *

'HON.'

 _'I can't tell if I'm in trouble or if there's something exciting happening.'_

'Well, you tell me: we got it.'

 _'We did?'_

'We did! So last chance to back out: sure you want to move into a brand new apartment with me?'

 _'You have no idea.'_

* * *

 _'I'll pick it up before heading home, don't worry. '_

 _'_ Thanks babe. See you tonight.'

'Oh, and careful: you left clothes in the Planet elevator again.'

 _'Oh, jeez. Tie?'_

'And jacket. But don't worry: I have your back, Smallville.'

* * *

 _'Was the flight okay?'_

'Sleepless, actually, but I'll live. Did Perry greenlight your article?'

 _'Yes, he did - not without grunting, though. I have to go for an interview, but call me after yours to tell me how it went – and please be safe.'_

'I will. And don't worry: the only thing that scare me in Nairomi so far is the state of my hotel room bedsheets.'

 _'I mean it, Lo.'_

'I know. I promise: everything will be fine.'


	42. Up in the air

Laying on her back, head pillowed by his extended arm as she played with the hand at the end of it, Lois tried to regain her breath.

"I think it's safe to say that your neighbors hate us, now," he deadpanned, making her chuckle.

"Are they trashing us right now?"

"Oh yeah. And with a very colourful language for people their age, I might add."

Imagining the faces of conservative Mr and Mrs Anderson upstairs, and the look they'll give her next time they cross path, Lois laughed out loud, feeling his own chuckle rumbling through his chest. Smiling, Clark turned his head to look at her and, fingers from her other hand running under his strong jaw, she kept laughing, head still in the clouds he just brought her to.

"Sorry," she apologized, not sorry in the least. "Didn't mean to be so loud."

He smirked at that, and at that moment, Lois was pretty sure there was nothing sexier than a kinky, satisfied, grinning, post-sex Clark Kent.

"Fine by me. Are you sure you're alright, though?" he frowned adorably.

Funny, sexy, good in bed _and_ sweet as can be. Boy, did she hit the lottery on this one.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she beamed. "I didn't even feel it, to be honest."

"Still - I'll be more careful next time."

"Okay: first, my head barely hit the ceiling. Second, I forbid you to even _try_ and stop that - and third, I don't think you have much control over it, anyway." He winced.

"No, I don't think so."

"So I take it that's never happened before?," she asked, then arched an eyebrow when he shook his head no. "Well, _that's_ an ego boost," she bragged, cocky, and Clark laughed.

"You definitely played a huge part," he conceded, lips brushing hers. "But to be fair, I wasn't used to flying until very recently - didn't even know I could. Maybe that's why I didn't find out about that particular thing until now."

Thinking for a second, she shrugged.

"Probably. Still: I'm the first woman to make Superman levitate from pleasure alone," she smirked, delighted when the slightest pink rose to his cheeks.

Cute.

Rolling over, Lois settled on his stomach, legs either side of his broad chest, and looked down at him. "And while I'm delighted we found that out like this, we're going to start doing that a lot on purpose now, farmboy."

Tousled hair and shinning eyes and looking all kinds of happy, Clark chuckled.

"So, flying sex is your new thing now."

"Oh yeah." Giving him a look that left not doubt as to what was going to happen next, Lois leaned down -

Then suddenly stopped mid movement, a shocked frown on her face.

"I can't believe we never even thought of doing that before," she breathed, both surprised and outraged by their own stupidity.

Appalled, she looked back at him. "That was right there!"

Rolling his eyes, Clark met her halfway, and shut her up with a kiss.


	43. Bright and early

The door creaks as it slowly and carefully opens. She hears a couple of little, muffled steps before his voice rises in a whisper in the silence of the room.

"Mommy?"

Keeping up her act, Lois smiles, and keeps still just to see what his next move will be.

Persistence, as it turns out. She can almost see Clark roll his eyes and ironically tell her how surprising it is, giving that duh, he's _her_ son.

"Mommy, are you awake?", he tries again, a little louder this time.

She gives a vague groan to let him know she's conscious, knowing that that's all the invitation he's going to need. It is, of course, and, stretching among the sheets, she lets the morning light warm her skin as he approaches the bed, an out of this world smile growing on his little face when she peaks an eye open.

"Hi, mommy!", he grins, the quiet around them leading him to keep whispering even though she's awake. Reaching for him, Lois chuckles.

"Good morning, my love," she greets as he joins her, propping himself up on her stomach. Her own grin lazily growing, she gently pulls him down for her morning kiss and hug, face burying in his chubby neck.

Like father, like son, apparently: she can't resist the first one, and things are definitely not improving with the second one.

"You smell very good, little man." He pulls away slightly, just enough to look at her, hands on her shoulders.

"It's because I already took my shower. We went to the market!", he announces excitedly.

"Really?"

"Yes. I wanted to come tell you when we got back, but daddy told me to let you sleep." She smiles.

"Your dad is a very wise man. What did you get?"

"Well, we got food for tomorrow, food for today, and then daddy bought me a balloon," Jon exclaims, blue eyes dancing. "It's a dog balloon!"

That was another thing about the Kent boys: their unconditional love for Man's best friends. To this day, Lois is still fighting their relentless attempts to convince her to get a puppy.

"Woah - you must have been really helpful to earn such a cool balloon," she plays along, smiling at the delighted look on his face.

"I was: I help picking the things for brunch, and then I helped picking the flowers for you." She archs an eyebrow.

"Flowers?"

"Yes! But I think that was supposed to be a surprise," the little boy frowns adorably, the perfect copy of his father. "Oh."

Chuckling, Lois sits up, taking him with him in the process, her arms holding him close.

"That's okay, honey: it's still a very nice surprise," she smiles reassuringly, soothing his worried brow with her fingers. "Plus, I'm sure that brunch is delicious, and I can't _wait_ to eat it," she says with big eyes to make him smile, and succeeds.

"Dad made pancakes!"

"He did? Well, you two are just a couple of keepers, aren't you?", and her overly impressed face makes him giggle.

Throwing her legs out of the bed, Lois gets up, small Kent firmly secured in her arms. "Now let's go quickly before I get too hungry and eat _you_ instead." Feigning her threat, she peppers him with kisses all over, covering every inch of his irresistible little face.

His laugh and vain protests resonating through the apartment, they head for the kitchen.


	44. Of rum and sugar

Eyes still on the movie currently playing on his TV, Clark got up to grab his phone, too preoccupied by what was happening to James Bond to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, you answered!"

"Did you think I'd be asleep at eleven thirty on a Saturday?," he smiled at her perky tone, immediately recognizing who it was.

"Well, you did fall asleep on my lap last night," she chuckled, unusually giggly.

"In my defense, I'd just helped clean up after an earthquake, and that movie was really boring." She laughed at that.

A _lot_.

"So, are the cocktails good over there?" he asked as he smirked, realizing what was going on.

"You know, they're actually not bad," she said in a very serious tone. "The Mojitos were a bit disappointing, but the Piña Coladas are quite nice! I think I may have had a little too many, though, because I feel reaaaally fuzzy right now," and here it was.

"Oh, really? I would never have guessed. " The fact that she missed the irony only confirmed that she _did_ , indeed, had a little too many. "You alright?," he asked with a smile, amused.

"Yeah, I'm fine," and he heard her take another sip. "But I'm bored. And I miss you," and Clark could see her pout from there. He knew she was completely drunk, but it still made him feel that familiar warmth only her could bring deep in his stomach.

"I miss you, too. Aren't your friends with you?"

"Yeah yeah, they're here. It was nice to see them again and all, but they're dancing somewhere now, and I don't want to. I want to see you."

"Now? I thought that was supposed to be a girls' night out."

"Well, it was, but now I want it to be a Clark night."

"If you're sure," he chuckled. "Do you want me to come pick you up?"

"You don't mind?," she asked, tone adorably uncertain, all of the sudden. It was the same one she had when he first invited her to his family home, when he first told her he loved her, when he gave her the key to his apartment. She didn't seem to understand his entire life revolved around her, and just her, and that she could ask him the moon if she wanted to.

"No, I don't mind at all," he assured her softly. "The Walkabout bar, right?"

"Yes! Hey, wanna make a race? I bet I can get out on the street before you arrive," and she sounded even more excited than the day she found out about her second Pulitzer.

So, _so_ drunk.

Grabbing his jacket, Clark put his phone between his ear and shoulder as he slipped it on. "You're sure you want to bet on that? I don't want to brag, but I'm a pretty fast guy, you know." She snorted.

"Right. I'll have you know that I'm fast too, Smallville, and the bar is not that crowded, so I'm already reaching the do - Clark!"

She wasn't even mad she just lost: she just beamed at him, threw her arms in the air and ran towards him, drink spilling all around them as she did. He gladly hugged her back, smiling at the group of girls that looked at them with a collective "Awww!"

"Hey," he mumbled as he kissed her neck, face buried in it.

She giggled at that – and wow, did he love the intoxicated Lois – and pulled back to look at him. "Hey!," she grinned, eyes sparkling before kissing him, arms tightening around his neck.

She tasted like rum and sugar.

"I'm so glad you're here," she mumbled against his lips, pecking him once, twice.

Smiling, he kissed her again, hands holding her even closer. "My pleasure, Miss Lane."


	45. 2:04 am

Lois had never pictured herself as a mother.

She had never pictured herself as anything, really, never planned things in advance – it just wasn't her type. Except being a reporter, of course: that, she had known ever since - well, ever since she learnt what a reporter was. But for the other stuff, there hasn't really been any plan.

So, she became a reporter, and after that, as life went by, new things followed. She became Perry White's protegée. She became a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist. She became the first woman to get an exclusive interview of an Arabian prince _and_ an eastern king – in the same year.

And then -

Then, she became a lot of firsts in a record-breaking amount of time. She was the first human to find out about the existence of alien presence on Earth – and then, the first to end up in an alien spaceship. To her regret, she was also the first human to fall out from such a ship and in outerspace. She collaborated with both the US army and a Kryptonian at the same time, helped save the world, learnt to live in the broken city that Metropolis became, thrieved as it got back together.

Somewhere along the way, she fell in love. Desperately, for the first time, head and heart first.

With Superman, at that. Funny, how life could turn out in a way you never, ever could have imagined.

Not even Lois Lane herself had seen any of that coming, least of all planned it. It almost frightened her, sometimes: the way she had started needing him far too much, far too soon, the way she wanted him to know that, the way he felt exactly the same.

Two months in, and she was telling him she loved him (and grinned a little too wide when he said it back). Six more, and they were living together. Add a year, and she was holding his lifeless body, thinking she was going to die from the pain. Another and he was back, and they were engaged, and they were married. _Married_ \- how about that.

And then, she was pregnant.

When they found out, she thought that that was probably the scariest thing that had happened to her that far, Clark's short-lived death excluded. Boy, was she wrong.

It was tonight – tonight was the scariest thing.

The sound of the curtain being pulled snaped her out of her reverie, and Lois looked up to see Clark walk back to her bed, with a small ' _Hey_ ' and a glass of water in hand.

"I just talked to the nurse: the doctor should be here soon," he said, his voice gentle. "Here."

Trying to smile back, Lois obediently drank up, ignoring the way her fingers were slightly shaking as she put down the recipient on the table.

He noticed, though. Of course he did.

Coming to stand just in front of her - close, so close - Clark settled between her slightly parted legs as they hung on the side of her small bed, dropping a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth as he interlaced their fingers together. Allowing herself one moment of weakness, Lois leaned into him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. When she looked up, he smiled tenderly, reassuringly.

Reassuring – he had been nothing but all night, even if she knew that he was as terrified as she was.

"You just missed a pretty big fight just now," she said to try and turn both their attentions elsewhere, not wanting to adress the elephant in the room.

Not sure she could without losing it, to be honest.

He was not fooled, she knew he wasn't, but, as always, Clark went her way, and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Apparently, she warned him that jumping out of the roof drunk was a bad idea, but he maintains that it was the 'funniest thing ever'," and on cue, another round of laughter came from the other side of the room.

Clark chuckled when a very angry ' _And stop fucking laughing, or you'll fall off the bed as well!'_ came before a nurse entered and shushed them down, and the sight alone turned her own smile genuine. The laughter eventually faded, and they simply looked at each other. After a few seconds, Lois had to drop his gaze.

Trying her best to control her breathing, she let her head fall on his hard chest instead, fingers holding on to the front of his shirt as his fingers moved to the back of her neck, in her hair.

She felt him drop a gentle kiss there before he spoke again.

"Everything will be fine," he whispered, his deep, soothing voice so soft, it almost made her tip over the edge and break.

"What if it isn't?" A beat. The inevitable question. "What if I hurt - "

He stopped her before her voice failed her.

"Hey." Moving his hands to her face, Clark made her look up to his determined eyes. "Whatever happens, none of it is your fault." She didn't respond, but Lois wanted to tell him.

Of course it was.

Whose fault was it, if it wasn't hers? Perry's, who silently but not so subtly took every step to ensure everything would be safe and okay for her at work? Martha's, who always asked how she was first, during her weekly calls? His – Clark's, who proved her wrong, and showed that he could be even more attentionate and caring than he was before?

Not of it was their fault – it was all _hers_. She was supposed to take her of it, and she failed.

Lois wanted to tell him all of that, but the look he was giving her, the way he was holding her, the way his eyes didn't waver and never left hers, she knew that he wouldn't hear her. Wouldn't believe her.

Would never blame her.

Holding his gaze, she nodded as his hands slid down to her arms and then to her fingers, and, again, he smiled at her. _I'm here_ , it said. _We'll be fine – I promise._

Before either of them could add anything else, the curtain opened again, revealing a tall, middle aged man, notepad in hand.

Lois' grip immediately tightened around Clark's.

"Miss Lane?"

She must have nodded or something, because he continued, eyes kind. "Hi – I'm doctor Johnson," he introduced himself. She tried to focus on Clark's warm and gentle hold so not to die from anticipation right and there.

Years of experience and one look at them probably let him know that, and he mercifully put a quick end to their misery. "You can both relax," he smiled gently up at them. "Everything's fine: your baby's okay."

And, all of the sudden, she could breath again.

"Is it – are you sure?" Clark asked anyway, the relief clear in his voice as well.

"I'm sure. Small blood loss happen sometimes during pregnancy, And although we'd like it not to happen again, you have nothing to worry about for now."

"What caused it, then?" she enquired, voice slightly wavering.

"Well, you're an active woman, Miss Lane: sometimes, too much intensity, a little stress, and your body can't keep up."

She felt the blood run out of her cheeks again. They both noticed, apparently, and the doctor immediately continued as Clark gently stroke her thigh. "It happens to a lot of women, Miss Lane. Don't beat yourself up: you did nothing wrong, and you couldn't have known that your life's rythm suddenly became too much."

He smiled again. "Now that you do, you just have to pace yourself. I'm sure the future dad will make sure of that," he winked knowingly at them.

"I will," Clark promised, smiling back. "Anything else we might be more careful about?"

"Regular control visits, healthy alimentation..." he read, attention on his papers. "I think we're all set here. Just keep on doing what you're doing." Looking back up at them, he grinned. "But I can give you the sex, if you want."

"You can?," Lois blurted out before she could even stop herself. Both men chuckled, and looking back at Clark, she couldn't help but as well.

Wow - talk about an emotional rollercoster.

"We'd love to know, yes," Clark confirmed. She could hear the excitment in his voice, and looked up to see it written all over his face. Her heart swelled at the sight.

"Well then, get ready for your boy, young people."

It was ridiculous, really – there could only have two possible options here, half-Kryptonian baby or not: girl, or boy. Period.

And yet, here they were. A little stunned, Lois watched as the news registered on his perfect, familiar and bewilded face, a slow grin making its way on his lips, and she felt her heart swelled again.

As the doctor left the room, Clark mouthing both their thanks, Lois felt herself chuckle, the thought starting to sink in as she pictured a little daredevil, eyes as blue and hair as dark as his father running down the streets of Metropolis, in the fields of Smallville. She barely registered Clark turning back to her, smile as wide as hers as he slid his hands on her neck.

"So: ready for a baby boy?," he nuzzled her, gently kissing her nose.

Chucking, Lois looked up at him, fingers gripping at him to make sure it was all real.

"Hell yeah." A smile she couldn't shake off even if she wanted to on her face, she pecked him, once, twice, her grin widening when he lingered.

They were having a baby.

Breathing him in as he slightly pulled away, Lois smirked.

"Ten dollars I can disgust him from football before you even have time to teach him."

Throwing his head back, Clark laughed.


	46. Generations

_i. look-alike_

Perched up on her bench, she looked away from her phone for the third time, head tilting to the side as she tried to figure out the familarity once again.

She knew that face – she just _knew_ it.

Propped up on his father's arms, the little boy continued his exploration of his dad's face with his chubby little fingers, giggling as they travelled on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. He couldn't be more than three or four month-old, but he was definitely one of the most beautiful kids she had ever seen, if not _the_ most beautiful. A small baby greek God, really.

The toddler seemed to babble something, because all of the sudden his dad threw his head back, laughing, the dark curls his son inherited bouncing. She couldn't see the man's face yet, only his back. He leaned in, then, said face burrying in the baby's neck to tickle him, and the boy's eyes lit up, sparkling with laughter as he tried to jiggle his way out of his father's gentle torture. His eyes – such a deep, clear blue -

And _that's_ when it hit her.

"Hey girl! Ready to go overuse you credit card?" Startled, she turned to see Ella approach, grinning with excitement as she jingled her wallet in the air. "About damn time: that week has been _hell_ , I can't wait to blow off some steam. "

Still slightly confused and surprised, she managed a small 'Hey' as she turned her head back towards the pair again.

A woman had joined them now – beautiful, she noted, stunning with her long auburn hair and assured posture – and, a smile on her face as she kissed the baby's cheek, she started to walk away, chatting, with her two coffees in hand and her two boys by her side.

When he turned, Chloe could see Clark smiling as well.

* * *

 _ii. the right note_

"Good. I want it on my desk before Friday."

"Yes, sir." Perry focused his attention on the board's report he was reading. Before the boy had the time to open the door, though, he looked back up, frowning.

"Hey, Kent?", and, hand on the knob, he turned. "Was that you singing in the conference room earlier?"

"Oh - yes, it was. My son wouldn't stop crying, so I had to sing him his favourite lullaby through the phone," he simply said, glasses well ajusted on his nose. He didn't even blink, or blush – and he _always_ blushed.

But apparently, not this time.

Not even an ounce of shame or embarassment in sight. "Was that all?" Staring at him for a few more seconds, Perry got back to his papers, hiding his smile with a shake of the head as he motionned for the young reporter to leave.

"That was all, Pavarotti."

* * *

 _iii. lion cub_

"A candy?"

"No, I don't think so. He ate an hour ago, he can't be hungry."

"Kids don't _need_ to be hungry to ask for candies. Plus, he's Clark's kid, and you know as well as I do he inherited his ability to never ever be full."

"Well, still: it doesn't sound like a candy."

"Rafiki!", the little boy demanded yet again, getting slightly annoyed. He had also inherited his mother's lack of patience, and the fact that they had been failing to understand him for close to ten minutes was clearly starting to get on his nerves.

"What does this _mean_ , Jon?" Barry asked for what felt like the hundredth time, desperate. Next to him, Victor growled, throwing his head back on the pillows in frustration. "We can't give it to you if we don't understand what you want."

The furrow of his little eyebrows clearly wasn't a good sign.

"Do Rafiki!" he tried once more, lifting his little arms in the air.

"Okay, _'do_ '." The young man nodded with a huge smile, glad that they were finally making some sort of progress. "So it's an action, then!"

"Told you it wasn't candy." Barry ignored his mumble.

"All right, little Kent: it's a game, right? I'm sure it's a game. So you want to play?," he asked cheerfully, and started to bounce the boy on his laps, proud of himself.

Five seconds in, Jon started to cry.

"Rafiki, do Rafiki!"

"What - "

"Oh, for God's sake."

Before Barry could do anything but gape at the upset little boy in his arms, a strong pair of arms came to gently snatch Jon away. His face composed as usual, Arthur gave them an half judgemental, half exasperate look.

"He wants the Rafiki _lift_ ," he mumbled before turning his attention to Jon, giving him a small and rare smile as he turned him in his hands and lifted him up above his head.

Effectively turning the boy's heartful cries into joyful laughter as he wiggled in the air, arms and legs kicking excitedly in every direction.

"How did you know that?" Victor frowned from the couch as Arthur brought the baby down, and then back up again – to the little monster delight, of course.

"It comes from a movie this little man enjoys. There's something called Rafiki lifting a baby lion above its head - "

"Oh, it's Lion King! God, I can't believe I didn't get that," Barry lamented, letting himself fall against the cushions. "I knew _that_!"

It was his turn to frown. "How do _you_ know that?", he asked, puzzled.

"Clark does it all the time," he said matter-of-factly, bringing Jon back to his chest. "The child loves it. And now I will take him to bed, which given his mood swings, he should have gone to at least half an hour ago."

And, with a disapproving – and slightly threatening – look, the king of the sea headed upstairs with Jon in his arms, leaving very confused young heroes in his wake.

* * *

 _iv. a bad day_

Slightly out of breath, Lois finally crossed the door of the day-care, immediately turning left towards the white and blue corridor. Waving back at Wendy through a glass, she kept going, then stopped after a few steps.

As soon as she entered the room, he looked up from the nanny knelt in front of him and at her, his big blue eyes full of unshed tears.

 _Oh, baby._

Smiling at him, Lois bend down to catch him as he threw himself at her, his small arms tightening instantly around her neck.

"Hi, honey," she whispered, dropping a kiss in his soft curls. "What's going on?"

"I want to go home," was his only response, mumbled in her shirt. Running a soothing hand on his back, Lois got up, looking up at the young woman – Alice, she remembered - apologetically.

"Hi. Thank you for calling." The nanny smiled back.

"You're welcome. The little man wasn't feeling really well today," she said, gently strocking his arm as Jon burried himself in Lois' neck, clinging to her for dear life.

"Yeah, I shouldn't have drop him in this morning," she winced, her fingers drawing small circle on the back of his neck to soothe him. "I think I'll keep him at home tomorrow as well."

She nodded her gratitude as Alice passed her his small bag, then spoke again. "Do you know if there's something wrong here – maybe a problem with another kid?," she gestured towards the room full of children behind them, clearly worried. "I've noticed he has been a little down for a couple of days, now."

Lois smiled up at her.

"No, he loves it here," she reassured her."It's just that his dad is away for the first time, so that's been kinda rough on him. He's not sleeping very well, he's a little sad." Her fingers ran back and forth into his soft hair, her lips brushing the top of his head. "But daddy's coming home very soon, now."

That, of course, finally got him to speak up, voice muffled.

"He is?"

"Mhm. Only two more sleeps, and then he's home."

"Wow, that's that's very little to wait," Alice added, cheerful.

"And in the meantime, how about we go call him, and then go for an ice cream?" Lois mouthed against his little cheek.

She felt a small smile grow on his face at that, and although his eyes were still teary, she took comfort in the fact that it was a true one.

"Can we call him now?," he asked, head shyly peeking up.

Chuckling, Lois put yet another kiss on his chubby cheek. "Of course we can, sweetheart."

* * *

 _v. a celebration_

"A poem, really?," he opened his eyes wide, exaggerating his surprise on purpose. Jon chuckled, delighted.

"Yes! Do you want to see it?" he asked enthusiastically.

It was like the child couldn't _physically_ stop being happy.

"Of course we do," Alfred smiled patiently, carefully putting his Oreos and glass of juice on the small table. Settling on the couch next to his master, they both watched as the boy ran off to get his backpack.

"I'm telling you: that is _not_ a normal speed – or amount of energy, for that matter – for a three year-old boy," Bruce frowned. The butler only rolled his eyes.

"He's _not_ developping Clark's powers."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I still have my money on year five: at five years-old, he's going to be flying off all over the house," he finished with a slight smirk as Jon returned. Alfred would never admit it in front of the already too smug billionaire, but now that he looked closely...the kid _was_ pretty fast.

He'd have to think about getting in on that bet.

"Someone has to read it, because I can't," Jon explained, hopeful blue eyes looking straight at Bruce. The bat got the message.

"All right, let me see it."

With a glance at an amused looking Alfred, he cleared his throat, and started.

"' _My dad. He's a lot of fun and I love him a lot. He has black hair and he is very tall and handsome and wears a good shirt, good pants and good shoes_ ' – Well, that's not entirely true, but okay."

Both Jon and Alfred glared, and he raised his hand in surrender. "Fine - sorry. _'He plays Legos with me when I ask and he says when I'm bigger, he'll teach me football. He makes the best food, and he's the best dad in the whole world.'_ "

"Well, that was really good, Jon: I'm sure your father will love it," Alfred assured. The grin on his little face couldn't be wider.

"Did you like it, uncle Bruce?" He chuckled at the enthusiasm.

"Sure, kid: it's really great," he winked. Then, smirked. "Although you know, when you were little, you used to pee in his face to show your love."

The boy's smile turned a little confused.

"I did?"

"Mhmm. Almost every time he changed your diaper." Looking over at Alfred, something woke behind his eyes. "Maybe we could add that in your poem – remind him of the little silly things you used to do when you were a baby."

After a second of hesitation, Jon grinned again – completely on board.

"That's a great idea!"

Shaking his head, Alfred headed back to the kitchen, the look of satisfaction on Bruce's face behind him entirely too smug.

* * *

 _vi. an early morning_

"Grandma?"

Smiling, Martha turned to see his adorably sleepy face, dark pillow hair going everywhere and incredibly blue eyes barely visible through his still half-closed eyelashes.

"Good morning, sweetie," she cooned, approaching to pick her little boy in her arms as he gave her one of those pretty smile of his.

Same as Clark's.

Dropping a kiss on his neck, she held him as he hugged her, his little arms tightening around her neck before kissing her cheek, then turning his eyes towards the oven. As soon as he understood, he looked back at her, a huge smile on his face.

"Are you making me chocolate chip pancakes?," he grinned, excited.

"Of course I am," and she chuckled when that earned her a cheer and another kiss.

"Yeah! Thanks, Grandma!"

Smiling back, she dropped him on one of the chairs at the table, rubbling his curls before heading back to said pancakes. "You're welcome, honey. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. I dreamt uncle Barry and uncle Victor took me to Disneyland."

"Wow - that must have been a nice dream, then."

"It was great! You know, aunt Diana promised me she'd take me, soon," he announced with wide eyes as Martha came back with his breakfast, then started pouring him some milk and juice.

"Really?" she asked in fake awe, playing along.

"Yes! She said we could do any attraction I wanted. But then uncle Bruce said some aren't allowed for children. I hope there's not a lot of them."

"Don't worry: most of them are made for children," she smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll have lots of fun," and he grinned again, happily starting to eat his pancakes.

"Do you know where daddy is? Mommy's sleeping, but he's not," he asked distractingly. Her smile dropped a little at that, but despite the ache in her heart, Martha fought the pain away for his sake.

Mouth full of pancakes, chocolate already everywhere on his face, he looked up at her, wide innocent eyes waiting, and the sight alone gave her the strengh to smile again.

"He's at the cemetery, honey. Today is the anniversary of the day his father – your grandfather – went in heaven, so he went to visit his grave."

"What does it mean, it's the anniversary?"

"It means that today, it's been exactly seventeen years since he's been gone."

Seventeen years. God.

"Oh, I see," he nodded, eyesbrows knitted. He thought for a few seconds before speaking again, his expression much less cheerful. "Daddy must be sad, then."

"He is, yes." Jon's face fell even more at that, his blue eyes staring at the half empty plate he was no longer interested in.

Pushing off the counter, Martha moved to give him a kiss. "But don't worry, sweetie - he'll be fine." He looked up, a small unconvinced frown on his features.

"He still has me, he has your mom." Gently pushing the black curls off his forehead, she cupped his cheek. "And most importantly, he has you, little one."

A few minutes later, Martha turned to the sound of the front door flying open and Jon rushing off, jumping down the porch's stairs.

Smiling, she watched Clark's face lit up as he bent to catch his son.


	47. The big move

"Thanks," she smiled, grabbing their sandwiches and bottles of water under her arm. "See you tomorrow, Jake." Nodding, the young man smiled back before turning to his next customer.

"Bye, Miss Lane."

Jungling to snuggle her wallet in her bag, Lois turned to head back to the large room buzzing with hungry people and looked for a table, sighing in relief when she finally found one that wasn't directly next to Cat's.

Loud gossips and not so discreet lustful glances towards Clark weren't exactly what she was in the mood for, today.

She had just settled in when the handsome farmer boy in question joined her. When she looked up, however, her smile faded.

"Are you okay?" she immediately asked, taking in his worried expression and small frown as he sat in front of her on their one person table, dropping his bag at his feet.

"Not really. I mean, yes, but - " He gestured towards his phone. "That was my landlord: I'm going to have to look for a new place."

"What? _Why_?"

Surely, it couldn't be for something he'd done: she knew he always paid his rent on time, was always more that cordial with everyone and was most likely the most respectful neighbour anyone could ask for ( _and_ the cutest, of course, but he'd probably think that irrelevant).

"My building's going co-op."

"Oh - I'm sorry," Lois winced sympathetically.

"It's fine," he shrugged, giving her a small smile nonetheless. Leave it to Clark to act like everything was fine for her sake, when he was feeling anything but. "I'll find something else."

Although he tried, there wasn't much conviction in his tone – understandably. After Zod destroyed a good quarter of the city, the prices of real estate had gone up higher than they had ever been and beyond. One room apartments, standard ones, it didn't matter: the prices were _crazy_.

Lois had been one of the lucky ones, considering. Her building was considered too precarious to be lived in, which meant it had to be put down, but she had managed to at least get some of her stuff back. Afterwards, and like many of those who had decided to stay in the city nonetheless, she had found an hotel room, then a new place all together.

With her help, Clark found one as well. It was a bit too far for her taste (' _I don't think the commute will be a problem, Lois,'_ he had smiled), and could be considered a bit shaddy at night (not that Mister super powers was worried), but at least he had gotten one of the rare, affordable priced ones.

Until now, of course.

The words left her mouth before Lois had even time to think.

"You could come live with me."

His blue eyes immediately flew to hers, reflecting the same surprise that could probably be found in hers. "I mean, you don't have to," she quickly added, trying her best not to stutter, or let the heat she was feeling rising to her cheeks unsettle her. "But, you know. If it can help, or if you – want to."

 _She_ certainly wouldn't mind. Would actually be very on board for it, in fact.

"Thanks, but - you don't have to," he smiled, almost shy.

"I know that. I want to," she assured, her voice more confident at the incertitude she could hear in his own, and the certitude she was surprisingly feeling. Suddenly desperate for him to know, somehow.

Shrugging as nonchalently as she could nonetheless - because she certainly didn't want to _look_ desperate -, she pushed his lunch in front of him. "Again, you really don't have to, but you just have to know that I'm not offering because I feel obligated or something. I mean, we're already practically living together, anyway."

And there were. Every night, they were either at his place or at hers, eating take out or home-made (by him and him only, of course), bickering over what to watch or agreeing to go flying under the stars, just the two of them.

Neither of them ever thought about doing things differently.

Still, Clark didn't speak immediately, and when he did, his voice was still unsure.

"There wouldn't be any - lines between us anymore," he warned. Lois put her arms on the table, a mischivious smirk on her face as she leant in.

"Maybe I don't want any," and her flirtacious tease got him to chuckle.

"I'm serious, Lo. Superman's already linked to your name forever, I work with you every day – if we do this..."

She cocked her head to the side, smirking.

"What is it, Smallville? Afraid I'm going to get tired of you or something?" He smiled, serious blue eyes fixed on hers through his dorky glasses.

"Maybe. One day – you never know."

"I do know."

She meant for it to be teasing, but it came out as something else, something much more serious. A promise, she thought. Somehow, she was okay with that.

"It's still a pretty big step," Clark pointed out, although she could see the twinkle in his baby blues, and the smile he was trying to hide.

"Not really," she raised a shoulder, taking a sip of water. "It would just mean that we would stop switching apartment every few days." He looked at her knowingly, silently reminding her that one/ it certainly didn't mean just that, and two/ neither of them had done this before.

Leaning on her arms again, Lois sighed for effect, and looked straight at him.

"Look, the choice is yours," she started, tone assured. "But if you're hesitating just because of me, that's complete bullshit, because I already know what it's like to live with you, and I happen to like it. I mean, you're the best cook in _town_. Plus, you're also very comfortable and very warm, which is handy for the winter."

She shrugged again. "I couldn't ask for a better roomate, really."

He was chuckling now, amused, and Lois was proud of herself when she gazed into now worry free nebula eyes.

"Gee, thank you. Glad to know I'm practical."

Barely holding back a grin, he leant in on his forearms and mimicked her pose, face inches from hers. "So you just _like_ having me around, and only because I feed you and keep you warm," he teased, and Lois fought a smile of her own.

" _And_ comfortable."

"Right. That's very romantic, really."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes in fake annoyance, then set them on his amused ones, biting the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from beaming like a teenage girl. "Clark Kent, you're the light of my life," she started dramatically. "Before you, I was incomplete. I am _so_ in love with you, and I'd _die_ of despair and hunger if you didn't move in with me, so would please oh please come live in my apartment?"

She gave him a pleading look, he gave her a falsely contemplative one.

"Well, that's more like it," he nodded, trying to keep a straight face despite his chuckle. "A bit lacking in praising terms, but I'll think about it, since you seem to need me so badly." Closing the distance, Lois leant in to shut him up, and kissed his smug grin off his unfairly gorgeous face.

When she pulled away, he still looked a little too proud of himself, but Lois couldn't say she cared: as it turned out, smug and happy was a pretty good look on Superman. Not to mention, she was feeling pretty ecstatic herself, right now.

"You do know you just kissed me in front of half the office, right?" Clark mumbled against her lips, the ghost of a smile on his own.

Leaning back on her seat, Lois grabbed her sandwich, and grinned. "I know. It was time to end that bet they all had going on, anyway."


	48. Lanes

_Knock knock knock_

A low groan. Legs lazily moving, head burying in the soft fabric.

 _Knock knock knock_

The groan's louder this time, followed by muffled and sleepy outraged words. "It's for you," she mumbles in her pillow, drapping the sheet over her head.

"No, you go," he protests, voice as sleepy as hers. Sure, he's Superman, the "Man of Steel", but hey, it doesn't mean he doesn't need his sleep.

 _Knock knock knock!_

"Oh, for God's sake," he swears under his breath, and even barely conscious, he can hear Lois chuckle (because apparently, _"You don't get pissed off a lot, but when you do, it's really funny, honey"_ ). "Come on, Lo," and the mattress whines as he burries himself a little more into it.

"'m not going. I don't care who's out there." He sighs, and, as the hundredth knock resonates in their apartment, he rolls over on his back to the middle of their bed, the soft skin of her bare back grazzing his arm.

Admitting defeat, Clark runs a hand over his face, and finally gives in and opens his eyes. "You're such a nice guy," she mumbles as he gets up. He groans.

"Yeah, well, you owe me one."

Doing his best to stop the thoughts of the comfy bed and the few more hours he could have had, he makes his way to the door, and doesn't bother to check before opening it.

"Hi", he manages, trying his best to smile and focus on the visitor through his haze. "Can I help you?"

For a few seconds, the woman standing in their threshold doesn't move: she just - stares.

She's smiling, too, and at that moment, Clark painfully realizes that he's shirtless (which, according to Lois, _"can be very,_ very _distracting, trust me." )_ He instantly feels his cheeks redden in embarassment, but before he can say anything – although he doesn't know what he would have said, really - she speaks.

"Well, well, well: I can see why Lois is trying to hide you and keep you all to herself, now," she smirks in a way that's somehow familiar to him, not so shamefully looking towards his chest area again.

"Uh – I'm sorry, I don't...What? "

"You must be Clark," she holds out her hand, apparently having the time of her life. "I have to say, I've been looking forward to metting you for a while, now. I'm Lucy."

If he wasn't in full "Smallville blushing mode" before, he definitely, _definitely_ is now.

Clark didn't have a particular idea in mind as to how he would like to finally meet Lois' family, but he certainly hoped he could have avoid being half asleep _and_ half naked when it happened. Talk about a success.

Suddenly very much awake, he shakes himself to regain control, and tries very hard not to babble.

"Nice to meet you too, Lucy. I apologize for the outfit – or lack of, that is," he winces, trying not to blush again at her appreciative stare. "Would you uh, like to come in?"

"Sure! Also, you don't have to apologize for said outfitt - it's really fine," she winks, playfully patting his shoulder as she comes in. "Plus, I've been down to South America for a while, so I've see far more, far often."

Clark decides he likes her.

"Wow, nice place," she nods appreciatively as he not so discreetly sneaks into the bathroom to get a shirt, and quickly put it on. "You been there long?"

"Three months, I guess."

"Mhm. Are you from Metropolis?"

"Oh, no – Smallville, actually. It's in Kansas," he adds with a smile at her frown. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." As he heads for the open kitchen, Lucy makes her way through the living room, fingers grazing the books and photographs there, already comfortable. She seems like the kind of girl who'd get comfortable anywhere, if he had to guess – probably a family trait.

"So: have you been in town for long? Lo didn't mention you were coming."

"Oh, she doesn't know. _I_ didn't even know until yesterday, but my boss decided that it was suddenly very important that I come to personally get the paintings he bought," she rolls her eyes. "But hey, at least I get to see what my big sis' life looks like these days."

Back against the dinner table, Lucy crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side as she takes him in. "You must be quite something, Clark from Smallville."

"And why is that?," he asks, amused as he glance at her above the counter.

"Well, my sister isn't exactly the type of girl that falls for just anyone in the first place, but actually moving in with someone? _That's_ a first."

"Maybe I just annoyed her into it." She snorts.

"Then you wouldn't have lived to tell it," and he really can't disagree with her on that one. "I mean, once I went to wake her up to come play with me, and she threw the first thing she could reach at my head. Unfortunately for me, she was reading _The Hobbit_ at the time," Lucy ironizes, and Clark laughs. "She's _crazy_."

"Lucy?"

They both turn their heads towards the approching voice at the other side of the apartment. Lucy smirks.

"Well hello to you too, sis."

Hair in a messy bun and face still adorably sleepy, Lois finally enters the dining room, one of his flannel shirts hanging to her knees - the perfect picture of shock. Her eyes go from her sister to him a few times, her mouth slightly opened, and Clark stops himself from laughing: it takes a lot to surprise Lois, but when she is, she really goes all the way.

The other Lane, on the other hand, doesn't bother to try and stop herself, openly enjoying her sister's distress. "Surprise!"

"What -"

"Oh, you know me: just came by to get gossips on reporter Lane," and Lois' face goes from shock to annoyment, eyes rolling. "And I have to say, you've given me plenty to gossip about," Lucy beams at him again. Her blue eyes finds his, and Clark can see the slight apprehension behind them.

Things had always been tensed between her and her family, he knows. She'd been butting heads with her father ever since she was fifteen, and when her mother died, things didn't get better. Got worse, he had gathered.

They didn't talk much, if at all, and Lois didn't really talk about him. When Clark had asked, once, she had told him, but even if she tried to act like she didn't care, the look on her face when she told him how her dad was always going out of his way to control her and didn't really bother to try and stop to understand her made him sweat to himself to not bring it up again.

She loved her sister, of course, but Lucy had been on General Lane's side too often, leaving Lois on her own, sometimes without even realizing it. Lois had never said it, but Clark knew that to this day, talking or seeing any of them still wasn't easy for her.

"I'm guessing you've introduced yourself to each other, then?" Lois sighs, taking a sit at the table. Her sister chuckles.

"Oh yeah. We even started trading embarassing stories about you."

"I didn't say anything," Clark raises his hands up in innocence. Lois shakes her head at them.

"How did you get that adress, anyway?," she frowns, and Lucy smirks proudly.

"I have my sources, sis."

"Yeah, that, or you have dad and his extended files," she snorts.

Her father had apparently always made sure to keep his informations updated about his daughter's whereabouts. Understandable, on some level, of course, but Lois hated it - which was just as understandable, and didn't help the already complicated relationship they had.

"Don't start, Lois," her sister throws her head back.

She only raises an eyebrow at Lois' glare, which impresses Clark: most people just looked away – or _ran_ away, at that look. "I'm not here to fight, so no touchy stuff. Suggested topics: Superman, your second Pulitzer, and oh, the hot guy currently making us coffee over here," she points a thumb over at him, cheerful.

Clark can feel his cheeks burn.

But at least, that makes Lois smiles, a small, but true smile as she meets his gaze again, her eyes amused.

"He's the modest type, though, so you might want to tone it down or his face is going to turn red," she teases. His mumble protest and only half serious glare make Lucy laugh.

"Yeah, I can see that. So, you guys met at the Planet, huh?" she asks as puts the coffee in front of them, and comes to sit next to Lois.

He grabs her fingers under the table, and she squeezes back her silent thanks before they both let go.

"We did," Clark nods, which seems to delight their guest.

"Oh, office romance, then. Come on, tell me everything: first date, first kiss, first fight." Drinking from her cup, Lucy smirks. "First time."

Rolling her eyes with a groan, Lois sighs and runs a hand on Clark's back as he chokes in his coffee, cheeks as red as his cape.


	49. Boys

Looking up from her book, she gets up, a small frown on her face. On her way, she turns on the dining room's light, and an amused smile slowly starts to curve her lips at the muffled groans and chuckles.

Opening the door, Lois finds herself standing in front of two happy looking superheroes – and Bruce. She smirks.

"Do I dare to ask?"

Clark just beams at that, a wide smile brightening his ridiculously gorgeous face. He also loses his footing, and it's lucky he has an Amazon to lean on. She holds his arm, not even flinching.

"Good evening, Lois," she smiles, amused.

"Hey," the Bat growls, barely holding back another roll of his eyes.

"Hi, honey."

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning too wide, Lois tilts her head to the side, a hand on the side of their front door.

"Hi. Looks like someone had fun tonight." He grins even more, his eyes sparkling.

"We did."

"Yeah, talk for yourself, vodka boy," the billionaire snorts, still holding his other arm anyway. Clark turns to look at him, his brow furrowing.

"You were having a nice time too, before you fell getting out of the elevator," and just like that, he starts chuckling again. "That was pretty funny, by the way."

Shaking her head at them, Lois moves to let the Trinity come in, her nose wringling at the strong smell as they pass by her.

"What happened to the rest of the boys? Did you ditch them at the bar or something?" she jokes as she closes the door, and follows them.

"They're in the car," Diana responds over her shoulder, effortlessly dragging the Man of Steel to his bedroom. "Victor has his hands full with Arthur and Barry, who, believe it or not, are worse than your husband over here." That just make him chuckle more. Lois raises an eyebrow.

"Barry, I can believe. But Arthur?"

"Oh yeah," Bruce snickers as they walk by the kitchen. Lois stops to quickly get a glass of water, while he doesn't even try to hide the mockery in his tone. "The mighty King of the Sea threw up."

"So basically, when it comes to drinking and partying, a group of grown up superheroes are no better than sixteen year-old."

"Maybe even worse," Diana teases. They finally drop him on the bed, and Clark collapses on his back, happily laying there, his huge arms thrown either side of his head.

Lois thinks he might be the cutest thing she's ever seen.

"All right, we're off. Enjoy your hungover, Superman," the billionaire smirks and, chuckling, they leave him to mumble something incomprehensible – maybe even for himself, given the state of him.

Kryptonian bars must have been something to see.

"I gotta say, this temporary loss of power thing is actually pretty fun," Bruce continues, proud of himself despite his own unsteady step. "I have so many photos I'm going to throw in his face later."

"And he has quite a few of you on the floor from that lift fall," the Amazon rolls her eyes as they finally reach the entrance. "I would be careful, if I were you."

"How did you get drag into this, anyway?" Lois frowns, amused. She opens the door. "I thought it was boys night."

"It was – but the Batman needed help getting all his drunken friends home. Apparently, Alfred told him to go to hell."

"He told me to fuck off," he growls. Again, both women laugh.

Once they're gone, Lois turns back to join her own drunk little mess.

"So, getting wasted: impressions?" she teases as she makes enters their bedroom, smiling at the sight of him.

"Well, I definitely get what the hype is all about," he giggles – actually, honest to God _giggles_. As she comes to stand in front of him, Clark sits up, parting his legs just enough to make a spot for her.

His hands slide over her thighs, and he burries his face into her belly, nuzzling her. He breathes her in, humming happily - comfortable and content.

A wave of affection runs through her, and she smiles affectionnaly back at him, her fingers running into his soft hair. "Are you okay there, Smallville?", she asks after a moment. He tilts his head just enough to look up at her, his beautiful eyes shining when they lazily open.

"I'm perfect," he mumbles against her shirt. Clark snakes his arms around her waist, holding her closer. "I love you."

She laughs, throwing her head back. "So you're the tender kind of drunk, huh? I should have known." Lois feels his chuckle trough her own body.

"Maybe. But it's still true – I'm so in love with you, Lo," he sighs, peperring kisses all over her abdomen. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

"I know."

"I'd be lost without you, you know." He pauses, sighs. His forehead rests against her stomach, much like four years ago, in Metropolis ruins. His next words are familiar, too. "You're my entire world."

Hands on the back of his neck, Lois feels her chest tightening, her heart warming. "I know," she says again, leaning to kiss the top of his head.

"You're my world too, baby." Clark looks up again at that, a soft smile adoring his features -

Before it broadens again, and he's laughing, shifting the mood completely in half a second.

"Bruce sang tonight," he announces, amused when her eyes grew wide.

"You're kidding."

"No, I swear he did. We walked past a karaoke, and he went in and did 'Billie Jean'," he explains, delighted. And here she thought that night couldn't get funnier.

"Oh God, please, _please_ tell me someone recorded it." Raising an eyebrow, Clark smirks proudly, and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"I thought you might want to see it," he brags, and Lois can't help her laugh, already thinking of all the ways they're going to have fun with such a treasure. "My battery just died, but I definitely got it."

"Honey, you are a genius." She pecks him, and she can feel his wide grin and the vodka he had on his lips. "Now drink this glass of water, and then start telling me all about Clark Kent's first drunken night."

Blues eyes sparkling, he beams.


	50. Grounded

_Everyone was dead._

 _The smoke filled his lungs as he looked over at what used to be a city, a country – a world._ His _world._

 _Now, there was nothing left of it._

 _As he turned around, his feet creaking on the dust and ashes and bones, Zod smiled._

 _"Let's rebuild our home, Kal-El."_

* * *

"Careful, mind his head."

"To the right, now just – wait, he's coming back."

"What - "

"His eyes, I think they fluttered. Call her, call her now!"

* * *

 _"We sent you here to do good, Kal," he said. His eyes lingered on him, full of disappointment, of disgust. "To inspire people. Now look – they all hate you."_

 _He wanted to speak, to explain, but nothing came out._

 _"Your mother and I died for you," Jor-El stated._

 _"_ I _died for you," another voice raised, all too familiar._

 _Clark looked to his right to see him standing there, in the same clothes he wore that last fateful day."I died to protect you, because I thought you were made for great things."_

 _Jonathan sighed, and Clark felt his chest tightened painfully under the gaze and shame of his fathers._

 _"I'm so disappointed, son."_

 _"Dad, I - "_

 _"We weren't the only one believing in you."_

 _She's behind him, but Clark doesn't have the strengh to look at her, barely staying up under the weight of it all._

 _"The whole world did. The Kryptonian, the savior. I never regretted sacrificing everything for you – losing_ my _husband because of you." Her words pierced right through him, his suit not thick enough to protect him this time._

 _"Mom, please."_

 _"Please what?"_

 _She moved to face him, looking down at him with a look he had never seen before, Jor-El and Jonathan behind her._

 _"I wish you had never entered our lives, Clark."_

* * *

"Clark...Clark, calm down. It's okay - I'm here."

* * *

 _"Daddy. Daddy, please."_

 _Tears were freely running down his cheeks, his young face twisted in sadness and incomprehension and pain – so much pain. More than he'd ever seen him suffer, more than he ever wanted to see him endure._

 _His voice broke as he weakly called again, begging. His own heart breaking at the sight, Clark watched from above as his son gently shook him, desperately trying to wake him up._

 _Clark tried to get to him, tried to will the body he was staring at to move, anything to stop the nightmare Jon was living. But of course, he couldn't._

 _"Mom, please tell him to wake up."_

 _Helpless, Lois kissed the top of his head, trying to hold their baby as best as she could as they kneeled next to his cold body._

 _Again. He left her once, going to his death to protect the world from Luthor's monster, and now he did again._

 _Her hands were shaking, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, reliving what she had told him was the worse moment of her life all over again._

 _"He can't, honey," she whispered, barely able to mutter the words. "He can't."_

 _Her face burried in Jon's soft curls, Lois broke down._

* * *

" - still shaking - what's going on?"

"I know...But it should be any moment, now. We just have to wait."

* * *

 _Her scream resonated through the empty space. As he fought against his own chains, his eyes couldn't leave her, her head thrown back, her arms streched either side of her body as she hanged in the middle of the room._

 _He wanted to die._

 _"Stop it!" he yelled for the hundreth time, pulling as hard as he could. But, despite his strengh, nothing moved._

 _Helpless, he watched as Luthor slowly walked around her, a smile on his face as he opened her delicate skin with his knife. Blood started to run, the deep red contrasting with the porcelain white of her stomach._

 _Rage built up inside him, hot, burning. He tried to channel it through his eyes and burn the billionaire down to the ground – but for the time being, he couldn't, and that only increased his furor._

 _One that he had never felt before._

 _"I'll kill you," Clark mumbled, eyes fixed on him. "I'll kill you."_

 _The billionaire only smirked, daring._

 _"Well, what are you waiting for, Kal-El?"_

 _"It's fine Clark." He immediately turned at the sound of her voice, small, weak as she tried to keep herself up, to smile for his sake._

 _His chest tightened even more, his throat too dry for him to speak._

 _Her blue eyes were set on him, dried blood above her left one, on her lower lips. Her arms were coloured with growing bruises all over, and yet - she was smiling at him._

 _"It's okay, baby. I - "_

 _But Luthor didn't let her finish, planting his small, electrified device in the small of her back, sending pain trough her body once more._

 _When another scream rose, Clark felt his knees give up underneath him._

* * *

Pain.

That's the first thing that he's aware of. It's not like the unbearable one that runs through his entire body whenever he's around Kryptonite, or like Zod's punches, but he still feels it. Mainly in his head, he realizes: he's sore, but it's his head that hurts the most. .

His attention is slowly turned elsewhere, though, at the gentle touch, fingers slowly running in his hair in a soothing motion.

A familiar motion.

With an effort far greater than it should be, Clark finally manages to open his eyes to see her, deep blue eyes lightening as their gaze meet. It feels like the pain suddenly lightens.

Safe – she's safe.

Her smile grows wide, then turns into a relieved chuckle, her auburn hair framing her delicate features, and Clark can't help his own smile at the sight - _she's fine_.

"Hey there, sleepy head," she whispers, her soft voice music to his ears.

"Hi," he tries, his own voice much more hoarse than he expected. Just forming that word is difficult, and his eyebrows furrow. Lois immediately comes to soothe them down, her touch gentle.

Confused, Clark looks around the room, the settings unfamiliar. She explains before he even has the time to ask.

"We're at the Watchtower. Different room than we usually stay in, I know - but the circumstances asked for it," she winces slightly. The room isn't his priority, though.

"Where's Jon?" She smiles.

"He's here. Victor and Barry are babysitting downstairs – or rather, bickering for the favorite uncle status," she rolls her eyes, and Clark doesnt stop his chuckle. A painful one, he notices. She does, too.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He tries to smile, fingers gripping the hand that's holding his. "I'm fine. My head just feels a little – heavy." He feels himself frown again at the unusual pain.

"I know," she mumbles, her relieved and playful smile fading. The fingers in his hair continue to move slowly, and as he looks at her, Clark understands that she already knows. Stroking his hand, Lois leans over, and drops tender kisses on his cheek, his nose, his jaw.

"Were they really bad?"

"Well, they weren't great," the vivid images of his parents, of her tortured body still flashing through his mind as he struggles to maintain a straight face. Trying his best to ignore them, Clark swallows a little too hard, but shrugs for her sake. "I'm fine – It's over now."

"Are you sure?" she asks, compassionate eyes searching his. "It looked pretty awful..." It was, of course. Awful, gut-wrenching – real. It just felt so, _so_ real. Clark suppresses a shiver.

"Yeah, I'm okay. How long was I out?"

"A few hours. The League got to that deranged wizard boy fast, but somehow it took longer for the nightmares to stop."

He chuckles. "'Deranged wizard boy'?", he repeats with a raised eyebrow, suprising her. "That's very catchy, reporter Lane," and her lips curve into a smile.

"Well, 'deranged bastard' works too, but I thought I'd cut back on the swearing a bit. Responsible mother and all, you know."

"Of course," he nods amused. On cue, the door suddenly opens wide, and they barely have the time to turn and understand what's happening before Jon's all over Clark.

"Dad!"

"Hey there, Champ," Clark chuckles, burrying his face in the little boy's neck, his arm holding him close. A little tighter than usual, he knows.

"Careful, sweetie," Lois softly warns, although there's a smile in her voice. Jon obediently pulls back, his chubby hands on Clark's neck.

"Are you still tired?" he asks, worry growing behind his big eyes. "You slept for a long time." Clark smiles reassuringly down at his son, and drops a small kiss on his cheek.

"I know. I was a bit tired, yes, but I feel better now. In fact, how about we go downstairs, and we all play that game uncle Bruce just got you?"

Beaming, Jon cheers.


End file.
